Early the next morning, just after breakfast, Adela returns wearing another flowy sundress and her hair in a low bun. She’s not here to accuse me of being an omega with Bennett ready to trap me.

No, she’s here with the crutches she promised to bring and to check on my leg.

“No using it until tomorrow at the earliest. Do you understand?” She narrows her eyes at me, trying to look threatening but failing miserably since I can tell her lips keep wanting to turn up at the edges.

Even ...