The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting faint gold lines across Roselyn’s room. She had barely slept; her mind had been consumed by fragments of dreams and the steady ache in her chest. Every time she closed her eyes, Calvin’s face appeared — that unmistakable pull of the bond, the one her wolf yearned for yet her heart couldn’t accept.
A knock echoed through the silence. It was firm but gentle.
Roselyn’s pulse quickened. “Who is it?” She asked, her voice still rough from sleep. A part of her prayed it wasn’t Calvin. She wasn’t ready for that—not yet.
“It’s me, Roselyn,” came Darius’s voice from the other side.
Roselyn exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging slightly. She rose from the bed, brushing her tangled hair back and tugging her robe tighter around her. When
