MELISSA.
I turned down the corridor that led to my room, my steps slower now, heavier.
The pack house was quieter at this hour. The lights along the walls burned low, casting flickering shadows that stretched and twisted across the stone. My body felt drained, emotionally, physically, like I had nothing left to give anyone.
All I wanted was my room.
Four walls, a door I could lock and most importantly silence.
I barely made it halfway down the hall when I felt it.
A presence, it was strong, intense, wrong.
I looked up.
And it was him.
Caleb.
He stood at the far end of the corridor.
At first glance, nothing seemed unusual. He stood tall, shoulders broad, hands clenched loosely at his sides. But then he lifted his head fully, and our eyes met.
My breath hitched.
His eyes weren’t
