The heat ebbed to a low simmer by midday, leaving me limp and boneless in the nest of furs. My body ached in ways that felt permanent. Deep bruises marked my hips. A constant throb lingered between my thighs. My rim stayed tender and slightly gaping even after hours of rest. The alphas had cleaned me again, fed me small bites of bread and fruit, and let me sleep between them. Their warmth had been a cage I no longer fought.
But the peace shattered when the den door slammed open.
One of the pack betas, Rorik, tall and scarred, Thorne’s second-in-command, strode in without knocking. His face was grim. His jaw stayed tight. He carried the sharp scent of pine, snow, and blood.
Thorne sat up instantly. His arm tightened around my waist. Aurelius growled low in his throat. Cassian rose to his
