The scent hit Evelyn before the doors even opened.
That familiar, dark cinnamon and storm-swept pine. A scent that once made her pulse race and her wolf stir in longing. Now it coiled in her chest like a ghost refusing to fade. Aria stiffened within her.
Damien.
The double doors of the Council chamber opened with a slow groan, and in he walked—tall, powerful, dressed in his signature black suit with silver trim. His sharp jaw was set, those midnight eyes trained on her like she was the only thing that existed in the room. He hadn’t changed much—still every bit the Alpha. Still the man who shattered her heart.
But this time, Evelyn didn’t flinch.
Ronan stood beside her, broad and unwavering. His storm-gray eyes narrowed subtly, his energy calm but alert. The difference between the two
