Chapter 82
The grief for her cub was a gaping wound, and Arlo was offering to fill it, not with another lie, but with a foundational, unbreakable promise of a new future.
“Arlo,” she finally managed, the word a painful gasp. She slowly extended her hand, the movement agonizingly slow. He watched her hand, waiting, his heart pounding against his ribs.
When her fingertips finally touched the back of his neck, Arlo flinched slightly but didn't pull away. It was a gesture of acknowledgment, not forgiveness.
You helped the woman who wanted to take our cub and use them as a weapon. You only mated with me to try to one-up Ryker, thinking that by doing so, you were somehow better than him. In the end, our cub died because of everyone else’s selfishness. How am I supposed to forget that? How am
