~ Author ~

The night air has a bite to it, but Azella barely feels it. She stands there, trembling, arms wrapped around herself, while Cassian waits for her answer with the kind of quiet that makes the world hold its breath. The question hangs between them like a drawn blade.

“Which pack do you belong to?”

Azella swallows once, hard. Her face flushes a faint pink, not from attraction, but from shame-an old shame, the kind that lives under the ribs and doesn't die even when you try to ...