MASON.

The next morning, I was on a flight back to Colorado. By the time I landed, it was still the crack of dawn. The Crimson Fang’s packhouse was quiet with only the occasional sounds from the guards on duty.

I found myself walking to her room that has become a makeshift hospital room to accommodate her. Her face looked so peaceful and yet so still. It made my heart ache. Leaning over, I pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“I miss you, Allison,” I murmured, the words barely ...