Amara didn’t go home right away.
She stayed with Aisha long enough to keep her alibi believable—tea, chatter, laughter that sounded real enough to fool anyone who didn’t know her.
But the entire time, the scent clinging to Aisha gnawed at her composure like teeth against bone.
As soon as she left Aisha’s building, she headed straight for the forest path.
Straight for him.
Her father’s secluded cabin sat deeper in the woods than most people dared to walk, but Amara had grown up knowing every branch, every twist, every shadow.
The forest parted for her the way it did for all members of the Alpha’s bloodline.
She reached the cabin and didn’t bother knocking.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Callen sat at the small wooden table, cleaning a wound on his forearm—one he had
