Victor’s POV
I caught Anderson’s scent. It was laced with grief and rage. He stepped out of the door, answering a call. He shut the door behind him.
As soon as he saw me, he dismissed the person and ended the call.
“We need to talk, Anderson.”
Anderson turned slightly, his gaze flicking once toward the closed door behind him.
“Are you here for me,” he asked, his voice edged, “or for her?”
I didn’t answer that. Some questions didn’t deserve clarity.
Instead, I held his gaze, my wolf steady beneath the surface. “You’ve been harassing Ava since you got back to Drakoria and following her. That ends now, Anderson.”
A bitter laugh broke from him, low and rough, more animal than man. “Ends? My mate is dead, Victor. How exactly do I end that?”
The word mate hit harder than he probably int
