Victor Makes His Move
Oliver Hayes's Point of View
He stood at the border and watched them go.
Lucian carried Freya away from the group without looking back, without slowing down, without giving Oliver or anyone else standing in that open space so much as a final glance. His stride was even and unhurried. His posture communicated, without a single word attached to it, that the matter was closed and had been closed the moment he decided it was.
Freya was still in his arms.
Oliver stood there and let those two words replay in his head the way a stone replays in a still pond. Ripple after ripple, spreading outward, touching everything.
She is my mate.
He had said it out loud. In front of Oliver's wolves. In front of Oliver himself. With that same flat, quiet certainty he brought to eve
