MASON.
The next morning, I was on a flight back to Colorado. By the time I landed, it was still the c***k of dawn. The Crimson Fang’s packhouse was quiet with only the occasional sounds from the guards on duty.
I found myself walking to her room that has become a makeshift hospital room to accommodate her. Her face looked so peaceful and yet so still. It made my heart ache. Leaning over, I pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
“I miss you, Allison,” I murmured, the words barely audible even to my own ears.
Just then, a sharp cry pierced the silence of the early morning. I straightened, already heading for the nursery where the commotion was coming from.
Harris was there, cradling the little princess in one arm and holding a bottle with the other. His hair was a mess, sticking out in e
