By the time Ronan and I stepped back into the packhouse, the sky was streaked with pale gold. Dawn crept over the snow like paint brushed lightly across white canvas. Birds stirred in the branches. The cold morning air felt clean and sharp against my face.
For one rare moment, I felt calm.
Grounded and steady.
The bond hummed softly between us, but Ronan did not reach for me, and I did not touch him either. We walked into the packhouse with several inches of space between us. Not because we wanted the distance, but because we needed the world to see nothing.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing had happened.
Nothing was different.
Except everything was.
Ronan kept his expression guarded, professional, and calm. He folded his arms behind his back as we stepped deeper into the hall. He looke
