Celeste winced as she sank into the plush armchair in the manor’s strategy room. Hunter hovered nearby like a guard wolf with a nursing license, pacing, glancing at her every few seconds, and muttering curse words under his breath.

Lisa sat across the room, arms crossed and expression stuck somewhere between I told you so and please tell me someone got that rogue Alpha’s head on a spike.

“I’m fine,” Celeste said, exasperated. “Stop glaring at the furniture like it personally ...