POV: Clara

The air grew thick and heavy. Smelled of wolves and plaster. The chain hung uselessly broken.

The doorframe askew where Daniel’s claws had burst through.

Rob looked like he belonged there, amid the wreckage. That was the worst part. He lounged like he’d sauntered into my kitchen a hundred times. Like the years hadn’t passed. Like I hadn’t clawed my way free.

“You don’t belong here,” I said again, louder this time. My voice wobbled, but the ...