DARRAGH'S POV

l jerked awake, the leather of my desk chair creaking beneath me. The study swam into focus—embers glowing weakly in the grate, casting long, writhing shadows across the oak-paneled walls. My mouth tasted of stale coffee and something metallic. When had I fallen asleep and why was I in my father's study? The whole scene looked weird. Glossy like. Unreal.

A sharp knock cut through the silence.

"Alpha Darragh." Eamon's voice, measured but tight. The slight quiver in it made my ...