Lorenzo
They were waiting for me when I returned.
Three alphas. Young, restless, proud. Their eyes followed me the way wolves watch the wind—tense, waiting for a cue. The girl—Sindy—was sitting between them, her shoulders stiff, chin raised like she was trying to summon some borrowed dignity. I could smell her fear. Not sharp, not panicked. Just… taut.
Like a wire.
And under it, something else. Something she didn’t want anyone to notice.
She looked at me like she wanted to scratch my eyes out. I almost smiled. That defiance would get her hurt in the wrong hands. But she was lucky—or maybe cursed—that she’d fallen into mine.
“She needs to be inspected,” one of the younger men said. I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on her.
Inspected. The word tasted like rust.
It was a tradition
