The moon rose like an omen. Not red — not yet — but swollen and watchful, hanging over the Valenti estate as if it had come to witness a decision carved into blood.
Calla stood in the center of Adrian’s private suite while Belinda’s betrayal replayed in her head like a cracked record.
We want to take her home.
Prove you are worthy to keep her.
She should have been terrified. Instead, something inside her felt… awake. Like her bones remembered an ancient language her mind had never learned. Like the silver heat under her skin wasn’t fear at all. It was readiness.
Adrian paced near the fireplace, shirtless again, the marks of battle still faint on his body. Every movement pulled muscle, every breath carried restraint. The wolf sat close to the surface tonight—Calla could smell it on him
