“Putty,” Cyrus repeats, his voice thick with confusion as if he’s reading my mind. “What the heck, Seraphina? Who are you, and what the hell have you done to my beloved?” His eyes are searching mine for an answer I don’t have. I meet his gaze, only able to offer a small, helpless shrug. Honestly, I don’t know either.
I’ve always been the “good girl.” A rule follower. I prefer peace over chaos, serenity over violence. Unless my wolf takes over—then I’m prone to all kinds of reckless behavior. But she’s quiet now. Completely absent, leaving me to my own devices, which makes Cyrus’s suspicion all the more baffling. He knows my wolf isn’t present. He should know that, considering he’s been inside my head, rummaging through my thoughts like it’s his personal playground. Urgg! He’s so aggravati
