Adeline’s POV
The morning sun barely cut through the fog when I unlocked my shop, the bell above the door chiming faintly. The air smelled of damp earth and dried sage, comforting yet heavy. I hadn’t slept much—Myra’s faint voice calling me “Mom” had replayed in my head all night like a cruel echo I couldn’t silence.
I was laying out fresh bundles of thyme when the bell rang again.
I looked up.
A man filled the doorway. He is tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of predatory stillness only a wolf carried. His black leather jacket bore the faint crest of the Black Moon tribe. His amber eyes swept the room like they owned it. I didn’t need an introduction to know who he was.
Vincent’s Beta.
The raw authority clinging to him was unmistakable—dominance in his stance, the faint ripple of
