But Isabella quickly composed herself, her werewolf instincts kicking in to mask any sign of unease. She nonchalantly changed her shoes, her movements as smooth as a wolf's in the night, before heading upstairs. She walked past Nathan as if he were a mere shadow, not even worthy of her attention.
Nathan’s anger surged, his wolf blood boiling. “Isabella, stop!” he growled, his voice echoing through the house, a clear display of his dominance attempt.
Isabella paused on the stairs, turned, and looked down at him. Her werewolf eyes glinted in the dim light, showing a hint of defiance.
“Is there something you need?”
“Where did you go this late? Shouldn’t you explain yourself?” Nathan questioned, his wolf ears perked up, trying to catch any hint of deception in her answer.
Isabella furrowe
