The Silverclaw Pack’s border shimmered beneath the rising dawn, faint mist curling around the tree trunks like ghostly fingers. Ashyra moved through it without hesitation, every muscle aching, every step weighed down by exhaustion—and something heavier still. Stephan trailed behind her, close enough to feel, far enough to deny.
She didn’t speak.
She couldn’t.
Not when her lips still remembered the shape of his. Not when her mind still echoed with the low, broken rasp of his voice: You’re still mine.
She wanted to scream. To shift. To tear something apart with her claws just to quiet the storm inside her chest.
The guards at the eastern watchpost stiffened as they saw her approach, eyes widening at the sight of their bloodied Beta and the imposing Alpha behind her. She didn’t break str
