Damian’s POV
Ever since we were children, I’ve loved Skye.
The first time I saw her is burned into my memory as clearly as the scar across my palm. My father carried her into our home one stormy evening, a bundle of torn blankets in his arms. She was so small, so fragile-looking, her hair tangled and damp, her lips pale. The scent of fear clung to her like smoke, so sharp it made my wolf restless.
But it was her eyes that caught me. Wide, dark, searching. Not the eyes of a child who had lived safely, but of someone who had been running far too long. A cornered creature that expected the world to strike again at any moment.
I later learned her parents had left her to die in the woods. My father’s patrol found her half-frozen, her breath shallow, a trembling shadow of what a pup should b
