Zoriana melted into the lavender aroma of her bath. She had spent over an hour soaking in the bubbles, desperate to scrub away the feeling of the rogue leader’s dirty gaze clinging to her skin. Now, she lay surrounded by foam, her eyes closed as her body finally began to relax.
Despite the warmth, she couldn't escape the cold reality: Tristan had deals with the rogues.
How could the same man who told her the truth about her mate—clearing Gael’s name even though he despised him—have arrangements with criminals? This was a man who loved his son, who was brutally honest, and even kind in his own silent way.
Mounia’s words echoed in her head: “The most dangerous ones, Zoriana, are the Grey ones. They aren’t pure evil, but they aren't good either. They are underestimated, unpredictable, and
