Lorenzo
The night was restless.
Wind hissed through the pines outside the lodge, carrying the sharp scent of frost and pine sap. The sound should have calmed me—it usually did—but tonight my wolf refused stillness.
Because I could feel her.
Even with walls between us, even with silence stretching thick through the corridors, the bond pulsed steady in my chest like a second heartbeat.
Every flicker of emotion.
Every shift in breath.
Every thought she tried to bury.
It was all there.
And tonight, it changed.
It began as a tremor, faint but unmistakable. A hitch in the rhythm of her fire. She’d been burning too hot for too long—rage, denial, fear—but now something gentler bled through.
Not surrender.
Not yet.
But want.
Quiet, flickering, like the first breath after drowning.
My
