The people who were in the room were absolutely silent—they’d heard every word Sora, Callum, and I had said. They knew what was coming. Jed and Selena were another story.
Ink told them, so I didn’t have to. He was brief, to the point, and calm, but inside, I could hear him howling—not for Sora or Macbeth or all the things that might never be.
For me.
I could feel him thinking about what this would do to me. On the other side of the pack-bond, he was thinking about the future: about years and years of being alpha chipping away at everything else I was. About everything I would have to give up and everything I’d already given up. I could understand from where Callum had been saying that. From where he was speaking that he would never be able to make the choice after three centuries of fig
