Thursday morning came like any other. Pale light filtered through the tall windows, painting streaks across the hardwood floors as the pack house stirred to life. Ryleigh moved silently through the corridors, her soft-soled shoes making no sound as she climbed the staircase toward the Luna’s suite.
The key weighed heavily in her apron pocket, like a secret threatening to slip free.
She paused at the door, heart fluttering. Not from nerves—but from memory. The memory of what had happened the day before in the Luna’s closet. The heat. The closeness. Damien.
Her cheeks warmed despite herself. She took a breath to steady her thoughts and unlocked the door with a soft click.
The suite welcomed her in silent elegance. No light, no sound, no sign of the encounter that had nearly stolen her sa
