It was dark when we arrived at the pack. The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence between us as I parked on our parents’ lawn.
I turn to Angel, who's looking out the window with her hands clasped in her lap. She has been quiet since we crossed the barrier.
Her silence eats at me. I can feel the storm in her heart: fear, guilt, and despair.
I reach for her hand, my fingers curling around hers, squeezing gently.
“Till I return, don’t report to the company,” I say firmly. “We still have no leads on who ran you over. It’s too dangerous.”
Her fingers tremble as they tighten around mine.
“Cassian, I’m scared,” she whispers. “I feel something is coming. Please don’t go.”
My chest tightens at the plea.
The weight of her words pulls at the part of me that would gladly abandon every em
