Chapter 2: Do Not Follow Me
The gravel shifted behind Valentina in a steady rhythm that matched none of Duke’s impatience.
That was the first thing she knew. Not comfort. Not safety. Footfall. Kase Marshall did not hurry, did not close the distance, did not pretend he had not been ordered to stop. His steps stayed several yards back, heavy enough for her to hear over the low hum of the floodlights and the idling engines at the front of the pack house.
Valentina kept walking.
Her heels struck the private drive too sharply. One of them caught in a seam between stones, and she yanked free before the stumble became visible. The house behind her leaked warmth through its open doors. Voices followed. Duke’s, clipped and angry. Lawrence Holt’s older, harder tone. Isabela’s softer one slipping
