While Luara returned home, Mila returned to the main house of the beloved pack and opened the door to Luara's office. The familiar smell of paper, ink, and waxed wood filled the air, along with the discreet memory of the Alpha herself—a mixture of jasmine and restrained strength. Mila had always admired the way Luara kept that space impeccable, with neat stacks of reports and the pack's crest engraved in gold on each folder.

She had come just to pick up some documents, nothing more. ...