WREN’S POV

I’M IN agony, shaking to the bones as I stuff my clothes into a red luggage bag in preparation to leave with Alpha Rhys in the next few minutes.

This empty, bruise-like ache settles in my chest like a lump, making every movement difficult. My phone is placed atop the rumpled, generic hotel-white duvet of my room, and I track the time: 11:37 PM.

I will meet him in eight minutes. I had almost nothing to pack. Just a couple of hand-me-downs from Alpha Silas: his ...