Ava's POV
When we returned to the house, Victor slipped back into the same routine as always, as if nothing in our world had teeth.
He stood behind me, the low hum of the dryer filling the room while his fingers moved through my hair with ease. My wolf stirred faintly under my skin, alert to his touch, confused by the gentleness.
When he was done, he went to the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a glass of warm milk, then led me to bed.
It was all so… seamless, so natural. Like we were just another bonded pair settling into the night.
For a moment, even my wolf went still, lulled by the illusion.
But I knew better. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was a carefully crafted lie, fragile as frost under morning light, and I refused to let myself sink into it.
“Ava.” His voice
