WILLOW'S POV
The smell of burning sage and dried herbs filled Atlas’s office as Selene began her witch check-up. I stood near the edge of the desk, keeping my face blank even though my pulse was racing. My hands were clasped tightly in front of me, my nails digging into my palms — the only sign of how tense I really was.
On the outside, I looked calm — composed, collected. But inside, I was holding my breath, afraid that one wrong move, one twitch of Selene’s fingers, could give everything away.
I already knew what was wrong with me. I didn’t need a witch to tell me that. The faint dizziness, the strange dreams, the flashes of images that weren’t mine, they were all signs that my visions were coming back. I didn’t want anyone to know. Not Atlas. And especially not Alpha Tyler.
If Tyler
