Alpha Jeremiah carried me through the dimly lit corridors of his pack house, his grip firm, his face unreadable. My arm had already healed, and the bruises from the rogue attack faded as if they were never there, thanks to my werewolf abilities. But inside, I felt anything but strong. I felt trapped, confused, and more than a little terrified.
When we finally reached his room, he pushed the door open, stepping inside without a word. I wasn't surprised by the interior. His room, like the rest of the pack house, was immaculately clean, though it had more color than I expected. The walls were a soft grey, the furniture sleek and modern, with black and white dominating the space. His bed, large enough to fit several people, was covered in crisp white sheets, and everything seemed to reflect h
