Alpha Damien rested his back against his bedframe in his dimly lit bedroom, his elbow on the wooden table, while he drum a rhythm on the wood.wiyh is finger. The fire danced and crackled sending shadows up the stone walls,but the heat couldn't chase the chill he felt in his marrow.His mind was war, warring between strategy, deception, and a name he couldn't shake.
Nadia.
His wolf raged within him, hissing with fury. "She's where she needs to be. She's home,"
his wolf snarled.
Damien's jaw was clenched, his head shaking. No. Not now. Not when war threatened at their door. He couldn't let himself think of her, not with Malcolm still out there, alive, scheming.
His fists were hard and clenched as his mind raced through the past—betrayal burning like flames. Elera and Cormac. Her father.
