As the doors at the Redwood manor slammed shut behind Maddy, she hardly paid attention to the closing sound. Her mind was slower than her legs which took her down the corridor past curious guards and shocked servants.
Even though the heat was gone, her skin was still burning because she felt ashamed.
Her wolf was agitated and forced in place, twitched like an angry beast inside of her.
He had said Sophia’s name.
While inside her.
That moment had cracked something open in Maddy—something black and bottomless.
For all her efforts—for every carefully orchestrated ploy, every public performance, every night spent in his bed—she had still lost him.
Not to another woman’s touch.
But to Sophia’s memory.
As Maddy walked through the west corridor, she came to a halt, her hands clenched and
