CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
The forest whispers secrets as I tread carefully among the fallen leaves, the damp earth cushioning my steps. Silas stands ahead, a sentinel carved from the wilderness itself, his tall and muscular frame silhouetted against the twilight that filters through the canopy of ancient trees. The air is heavy with the musk of pine and the latent power of the pack—an energy we all share—but Silas feels distant, the electricity between us not sparking as it once did.
"Let's form up," he says, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. He looks at everyone but me, his gaze skipping over my face like a stone on water. Brown eyes that used to delve into mine now evade any connection, guarded and restrained. It's a dance we've found ourselves in ever since I started dating Tristan—a c
