Mara
I sat down, still tense, every muscle wound tight.
Lucian sat beside me without hesitation, resting his hand on my thigh. It was meant to calm me, and it worked—until his thumb began moving gently. Soothing. Warm.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time or place to be aroused.
I forced myself to focus just as Alpha Vander cleared his throat.
“Mara,” he began, his voice more measured than I’d ever heard it. “I owe you an apology. A deep one. I was wrong.”
I turned to him slowly, stunned. Even Martha looked like someone had slapped her.
“It turns out,” he continued, “that everything was a lie. Darian caught the photographer and the staff who took your underwear. You were set up.”
Relief surged through me so fast my chest ached.
Tears welled and spilled over. How many tears had I cr
