POV: Serenya
Serenya paces the Luna's chamber like a caged wolf. Fury burns through her veins, hot and unrelenting. Araya is alive. Alive and raising Jasper's son in the wilderness like some kind of rogue.
The audacity. The disrespect.
Jasper stands by the window, his back to Serenya. He hasn't spoken since Dorian left to gather the hunters. Hasn't looked at her. Just stares out at the pack lands with that distant expression that makes Serenya want to scream.
"You're thinking about her," Serenya says. Her voice is sharp, accusatory.
Jasper doesn't respond.
"Answer me," Serenya demands. She crosses to him, gripping his arm and forcing him to face her. "You're thinking about that whore."
Jasper's storm-gray eyes are cold when they meet hers. "Don't call her that."
Serenya's laugh is
