Downstairs, Silas remained frozen in his chair.
He didn't return to the spreadsheet open on his laptop screen. His heart was thudding in a slow, heavy rhythm against his ribs. He had raised Lily from the moment she took her first breath; he knew every nuance of her face, every tell when she was anxious or keeping a secret.
She wasn't terrified of the wolf. She was fascinated by it.
Something had happened in that clearing yesterday evening—something far deeper and far more dangerous than a startled teenage girl running from a wild beast.
Ten minutes later, the front door clicked open, followed by the clatter of a heavy backpack hitting the floor.
"Rowan, if you kick that dirty ball near my art portfolio one more time, I’m popping it with a compass!" Rose’s sharp, dramatic voice echoed
