CHAPTER FIFTY
The night air carries a whisper, a silent summoning that stirs me from the warmth of tangled sheets and Ford's steady breathing. I sit up, my heart thumping erratically in my chest as if it knows something I don't. The moonlight spills through the window, casting silver ribbons across our room. It beckons to me, an unspoken promise hanging just beyond the glass.
"Ford," I murmur, turning towards him, but he doesn't stir. His face is calm in sleep, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of deep slumber. He looks so young like this, the burdens of his alpha duties momentarily smoothed away by the night's embrace. I press a soft kiss to his forehead, inhaling the familiar scent of pine – no, not pine; something earthier, more grounding, like freshly turned soil and autum
