There were no councils that night. No patrol reports. No distant howls pulling at my pulse.
Only the three of us.
Derek closed the door to our chamber quietly, and the sound felt like a promise instead of a barrier. The fire burned low, warm light spreading across stone walls and heavy wood. Outside, Montenegro slept.
Inside, I finally let myself breathe.
Jax stood near the bed, watching me in that intense way of his, as if I might disappear if he blinked. Derek stepped closer from behind and slid his hands slowly around my waist. There was no rush in him. No command. Just warmth.
“You are tired,” Derek said softly against my ear.
“I am,” I admitted.
Not tired from battle.
Not from politics, but from carrying too much.
Jax moved in front of me, he lifted his hand, rough fingers br
