Morning light filtered through heavy curtains, casting soft patterns across the bedroom floor. Sofia hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Julian’s face — the raw shock when he felt their son move, the possessive hunger in his eyes, the way his hand had trembled against her stomach.
She hated how much she still wanted him. The mate bond was a cruel, stubborn thing.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
“It’s Marcus,” the Beta called. “I brought breakfast. And clothes from your apartment.”
Sofia opened the door cautiously. Marcus stood there with a tray and a duffel bag. His expression was carefully neutral, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, taking the items. “Any word on the rogues?”
“One’s talking. The others… not so much
