Shirley
I hadn’t slept a wink.
My body was exhausted, but my mind kept replaying last night like a film I couldn’t pause. The snarling, the blood, the golden eyes. The fight. And most of all—him. That scarred wolf who had saved me from the other. The one whose eyes I’d seen before. The same eyes I had stared into across Dante’s desk.
And now, as I pulled open my door and stepped outside, he was right there.
Dante stood beside my car, arms folded across his chest, jaw tight, like he had been waiting all night.
I stared at the scar on his forehead.
The exact same place the wolf had been wounded.
The air between us tightened like a noose.
“You were there last night,” I said coldly. “It was you. The wolf that saved me—it was you, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t even flinch.
His silence was my
