IVY’S POV
I wake up to Knox standing in my doorway and I know from the way his body is filling the frame – vibrating, his hands clenched at his sides with the tendons in his forearms standing out like cables – that the alley wasn’t enough.
He’s shirtless and his eyes are gold-ringed in the morning light and the muscles across his chest are doing that wrong-shifting thing that means his wolf is pressing against the surface, and I can feel his emotional state through the bond like a weather system moving through my ribcage – not anger exactly, something hotter, more jagged, the kind of feeling that doesn’t have a name because it lives in the space between jealousy and betrayal and territorial fury.
“How long.” His voice is flat in a way I’ve never heard from Knox because Knox’s voice alwa
