Liam’s study was a stark contrast to the ancient stone of the Pack House. It was modern, sleek, and dominated by black leather and chrome.
I stepped inside, my heart still pounding from the encounter with Uncle Brent.
Liam was sitting on a black sofa in the center of the room, flanked by two men I didn't recognize. All three heads snapped up as I entered.
"Luna?" Liam stood immediately, his brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"
He was dressed in all black—shirt, trousers, boots. He looked lethal and exhausted. For a second, the anger I felt toward him wavered, replaced by a treacherous urge to go to him.
"Is this her?" one of the men asked.
Liam stiffened. He moved subtly, positioning his body between me and the strangers. "I should ask you to leave. We can finish this later."
"Why not te
