AS IF REACTING TO BRUISER’S reminder, the intercom once again flared to life. This time, Ruth was the one speaking, her voice terse with alpha authority.
“Uninvited visitors at the gatehouse. All on-duty wolves report to battle stations. Off-duty wolves, meet me lupine at the front gate.”
Breath caught in my throat. This wasn’t mere trouble. This was an invasion.
A click marked the end of the pack-wide message. A new click suggested that Ruth’s subsequent statement was broadcast less widely than the first. “Luke, get Honor out of here. The pack can’t handle woelfin distractions.”
My mate turned to face the security camera, one of dozens the pack had installed when we returned to Luke’s childhood home six months earlier. “I might be a distraction but Honor isn’t,” he bit out before gett
