"Where is Mila?" Dante repeated, his voice cracking with desperation. He took a step toward Liam, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. "Why won't anyone answer me?"
I started to move toward him, the guilt in my chest suffocating, but a hand clamped around my wrist.
Liam’s grip was iron, his skin radiating heat.
"Let me tell him," I whispered, pleading.
He didn't look at me. His golden-brown eyes were locked on Dante, cold and calculating. "Mila Petrova is carrying out Pack duties."
"Where?" Dante roared. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, you bastard?"
"Because I didn't know who you were," Liam said, his voice flat. "And Pack business is none of your concern. You are trespassing."
For the first time, Dante lowered his head. I thought he was submitting, bowing to the ove
