I let out a sharp breath, disbelief and anger tangling together.
“And when Nickolai died—”
“Murdered,” I cut in.
My voice was sharper now.
Controlled, but not soft.
“He was murdered. By his wife.”
Brent waved a hand dismissively.
“A matter of perspective.”
My stomach turned.
“No,” I said coldly. “It’s not.”
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t care.
“And when he died,” Brent continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “we lost that connection. The bridge between our packs.”
Something ugly settled in my chest.
Cold.
Heavy.
“And then,” he added, his gaze shifting between me and Thoren, “you ran.”
My jaw clenched.
“I left,” I corrected.
“You ran,” he repeated calmly, “straight into the arms of the one man we had spent years trying to keep you from.”
Silence stretched tight.
“And ruined everyt
