Liora POV
The packhouse library feels like a sanctuary after the gruelling physical and emotional toll of the training yard. Moonlight slants heavily through the high, arched windows, casting glowing shafts of silver across towering shelves lined with leather-bound volumes. The air here smells of aged paper, beeswax, and quiet dust—a peaceful refuge entirely removed from the chaotic bustle of the pack.
I sit at one of the heavy mahogany tables, my muscles aching with a dull, satisfying burn from the drills. But it isn't the physical exertion that leaves me feeling so exhausted; it is the lingering ghost of my mate. Kai’s scent still clings to my clothes. The phantom weight of his hands resting firmly on my hips as he adjusted my stance earlier feels permanently burned into my skin. The
