You’d think that stepping out of the gloomy prison palace I’d been stuck in for the last day or so would feel liberating. That I’d feel a twinge of joy at finally seeing the birds soaring overhead, gliding across the sky far freer than my miserable self could ever hope to be. But those feelings never stood a chance.
Why? Because the moment I stepped outside the palace, I saw him. No, scratch that. I felt him.
Sparks ignited across my traitorous chest as my wolf caught sight of the arrogant asshat known as Lucas Visconti. He was leaning casually against a Porsche, dressed in dark navy jeans, a black leather jacket, a black V-neck, and matching black shoes. The smug look plastered across his face made me want to march over there and wipe it clean off.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, s
