The temporary pack housing wasn't terrible. Basic furniture, decent security, and best of all – no memories of Tom.
"Home sweet home," I muttered, dropping my single suitcase on the bed.
The apartment was small but functional. Beige walls that had seen better days, furniture that screamed "budget-friendly," and a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in. But it was clean. And it was mine.
My wolf sniffed around the space, unimpressed. After Christian's penthouse, everything felt… inadequate. The memory of floor-to-ceiling windows and that ridiculously comfortable bed flashed through my mind.
"Stop comparing," I told her firmly. "That was a one-time thing."
Mate, she insisted for the hundredth time.
"Will you quit with that? We don't even know his last name!"
I unp
