Chloe’s pov
I made my way through the double arched doors, my bare feet practically silent against the polished floorboards, heading toward the east wing.
I rounded the corner of the lower parlor, stopping dead in my tracks.
Nash stood near the high arched window, his back half-turned to me. He was still pale from his time in the basement, but his posture was upright, imposing, and broad-shouldered. Standing right beside him, leaning in far closer than necessary, was Megan.
She wore a gown that flared at the hips, her hands gesturing near his arm.
"You really ought to let Doctor Luther give you a proper salve for those ribs, Alpha," Megan cooed, her voice pitched in that soft, breathless register she saved strictly for men she wanted something from. She reached out, her fingers hover
