Clara POV
The kitchen was my sanctuary, its stone walls warm with the scent of fresh-baked bread and simmering herbs, the morning light streaming through the wide windows, glinting off copper pots and casting soft patterns on the counter. But today, the familiar comfort felt fragile, overshadowed by the tension that had gripped the Silverthorn Pack’s mansion since Darius’s arrival.
I stood at the counter, my auburn hair pinned up, my apron dusted with flour, my hands kneading dough with more force than necessary, each push a release for the anxiety twisting in my gut. The memory of Jaxon’s furious face when I told him Lyra had gone for a walk with Darius—his gray eyes flashing green, his Alpha aura crackling—still haunted me, and I couldn’t shake the guilt for letting Lyra slip out, for
