I didn’t sleep after the word appeared on my window.

TRAITOR.

The blood had long dried by the time the first ray of sunlight touched it. But its sting remained. Whoever wrote it knew the truth. That I was torn between Ryan and Henry. Between duty and desire. Between fate and freedom.

I had to leave.

I told Ryan I needed air. He didn’t argue. He probably felt the tension too, the bond growing tighter every minute I stayed in Blue Howl. He tried to hide it with silence, but his aura ...