Grace
The silence after Kaleb’s claim was suffocating.
Every breath Grace drew scraped her lungs raw, her heart pounding so loudly she thought the whole pack must hear it. The clearing, moments ago alive with snarls and fury, had gone still—like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Mine.
The word wrapped around her like chains, heavy and unbreakable. It echoed in her bones, in the frozen air, in the way Kaleb stood between her and the wolves like a wall of blood and fire. And from the way the pack bristled, from the venom gleaming in the silver-eyed man’s gaze, she knew that one word had changed everything.
“You’ve crossed the line,” the silver-eyed man spat, his voice rough, threaded with something feral. His bare chest rose and fell hard, blood still streaking across his skin.
