Wesley stormed towards the witch, Loraine Winters like a man who had argued with fate one too many times and lost every round.
“I did everything,” he snapped, his boots echoing against the polished obsidian floor. “Everything you asked of me. I disappeared. I let the world think I was dead. I swallowed my pride, my crown, my life… because you said it was the only way to get Riana back for me.”
Loraine did not look at him.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, a chair that had been slightly out of alignment slid back into place as if embarrassed by its own disorder. A stack of grimoires floated neatly onto a shelf. A silver goblet righted itself. Loraine hummed, clearly more offended by untidy furniture than by a furious Alpha standing in her foyer.
“Do you know,” she said mildly, “
