The journey from the Pack to the city unfolded in painful silence. I welcomed the quiet. Conversation felt burdensome, and I was lost in my own thoughts. Yet, what grated on me was Ezra's persistent glances in the rearview mirror. I noticed his eyes on me, and it irritated me to the core. I avoided meeting his gaze, fixing my eyes on the passing scenery outside the Jeep, hoping he'd take the hint and cease his watchful looks. However, he persisted, and each time our eyes met in the reflection, it felt like an unwelcome intrusion.
I didn't want his scrutiny. I didn't want any acknowledgment from him. In my mind, he had become nothing more than the Alpha of the Red Moon Pack, a figure I wanted to forget – or perhaps, I already wished to believe I had forgotten. The weight of knowing him, of
