Richard’s POV
THE NEXT DAY
I’m halfway through a stack of patrol reports when the door opens without a knock.
Emma slips inside, closing it softly behind her. She’s wearing one of my black sweaters, sleeves rolled up, hem brushing mid-thigh.
“We need to talk about Brittany,” She says, voice quiet but firm.
I lean back in my chair, arching a brow. “Is that really important right now?”
“Yes,” she steps closer, hands clasped tight. “You need to know why I did what I did on that yacht. All of it.”
I study her for a long second, then nod. “Alright. Talk.”
She takes a shaky breath. “First, believe me when I say I’m in love with you. Truly. Madly. The kind that makes my chest hurt when you’re not beside me. I never meant to trick you. I’m not the monster Brittany painted.”
My wolf
