Tristan and I sat in the living room as the last of the daylight faded, the house too quiet around us. Every sound from outside made my pulse jump—car doors, distant voices, the low rumble of an engine that might finally be them. I had my hands clenched together in my lap so tightly my fingers ached. Tristan sat beside me on the couch, close enough that our shoulders touched. He hadn’t moved away once since we made the decision.
“They’re going to be angry,” I said for the third time.
“I know.”
“Your father might forbid it.”
“He can try.”
I turned my head to look at him. In the soft light of the lamp his expression was calm, but the gold never fully left his eyes. The Alpha in him was already braced for a fight.
“You’re really not scared at all?” I asked.
Tristan’s hand found mine. H
