The guest room was cold.
The windows were sealed tight against the winter wind, and the radiator in the corner hissed with steam heat. The cold was inside me. It was the temperature of the void I had carefully, methodically constructed around my heart.
I sat on the edge of the narrow mattress, staring at the door. I had moved out of the Alpha’s quarters two days ago, citing a need for space and focus. I had expected Guilermo to shout. I had expected him to break the door down.
Instead, he had gone silent.
But silence, I was learning, was the loudest sound a wolf could make.
I stood up and walked to the window. Below, the training yard was empty. The snow was packed down hard, gray and slushy in the afternoon light.
I didn't see him. I didn't need to.
I could feel him.
Even with the
