Chapter 21
The door to Miles’ bedroom closes with a soft click. For the first time since the cellar, since the council room, since the prophecy was spoken aloud, they are alone. No warriors. No Alpha. No Beta. No expectations. Just them. Casey stands near the center of the room, arms wrapped loosely around herself. The pack house feels different at night—quieter, older somehow. The lamps cast a warm glow over dark wood walls and heavy furniture. Miles’ scent lingers everywhere. Cedar. Smoke. Something distinctly him. He watches her carefully from a few feet away. Not predatory. Not commanding. Cautious. “How does it feel?” he asks softly. She exhales slowly, searching for words. “Loud,” she admits. “Not overwhelming. Just… present. Like a current under my skin.” His jaw
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