Ivy’s POV

I clutched my bag tightly as I stepped into the Valentini pack. I had left everything behind for this.

The front door creaked open before I could even knock. A guard I didn’t recognize bowed stiffly and motioned for me to come inside. The faint echo of piano music drifted from somewhere deeper in the house.

Vincent was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of red wine in his hand. He looked almost amused when he turned toward me.

“Well,” he said softly, a faint smirk tugging at ...