The walk back to their modest house was a gauntlet of stares.
Iva kept her head down, her hand clasped tightly in Nick's, her steps quick and purposeful. The pack members they passed seemed to pause in their activities, their eyes following her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. Some were curious, others wary, and a few held a coldness in their gaze that sent shivers down her spine.
Nick noticed her discomfort. He squeezed her hand, his voice low and reassuring.
"Almost there," he murmured.
But his words did little to ease the knot of anxiety in her chest.
The house was modest but well-maintained, tucked away at the edge of the pack's territory. It was simple, functional. The walls were made of rough-hewn timber, the windows small and unadorned, the furnishings sparse but com
