- Aria
The coffee in my mug was stone cold, but I kept sipping it anyway.
My kitchen felt like a war room. Papers were scattered across the marble island—printouts of housing listings I couldn't afford and a crumpled copy of my resume that I’d stared at until the words blurred.
The front door creaked open, and the heavy, earthy scent of rain and pine filled the foyer. Beta Alder.
He didn’t knock. As the Beta of the pack and my only real ally in this house, he had a "pass" that my husband, Alpha Luca, barely tolerated.
Alder walked into the kitchen, his face unusually tight. Usually, he was the one with the easy smirk and the "it’ll be fine" attitude. But not today.
"Aria," he said, skipping the greeting. "We’ve got a problem with Wynne’s firm."
I put the mug down. Wy
