Seraphina's POV
Those words hit me like a sledgehammer, cracking the thick ice around my heart.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I looked up at him, my eyes searching his for a sign of a trap. "You're actually agreeing to it?"
Mortimer's jaw was locked so tight I thought it might snap.
He looked down at me, his golden eyes flickering with a dark, predatory light—a sign that his wolf, Barton, was losing his grip on reality.
"You realize," he said, his voice a wrecked rasp, "that our little private agreement is one thing. But in the eyes of the law and the Pack Council, we are a Moon-blessed union. It's a legal lock."
The tiny spark of hope I'd felt was instantly doused by his clinical tone.
I let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. What was I even expecting?
A sudden surge of conscience?
