ROWAN
Something was wrong. The feeling settled deep, quiet but heavy. It came from Maribel before she ever spoke. Her scent had shifted, just enough to notice if you knew her well. Sharper. Tighter.
Her posture was different too. Too controlled. Too careful. Like every movement had been decided in advance.
Three years with her had taught me how she operated. I knew when she pushed. I knew when she waited. I knew how she twisted situations while pretending to be helpful. I knew the look she wore when she wanted something.
This was not that look. This felt colder. It carried intent.
“Maribel,” I said. My voice came out steady, but the warning was there. “You should return to your duties.”
“Of course, Alpha.” Her fingers wrapped around my arm, light and familiar. Once, that touch had
