WHAT RONAN KNOWS
Selene POV
The morning after Ronan's discovery felt like walking through a house made of glass.
I sat at the kitchen counter, a cup of tea cooling in my hands, and watched Nessa arrange breakfast rolls with the precision of someone conducting surgery. Every wolf who entered the room was suspect now. Every friendly greeting might be performance. The packhouse that had begun to feel like safety had revealed itself as something more complicated—a community with secrets, with watchers, with someone who had stood aside while Damon bled.
The bond pulsed steady in my chest. Damon was two floors above, in the strategy room with Ronan, reviewing the six names. Six wolves with access to the storage room. Six potentials, and no certainty.
I sipped my tea, tasting nothing.
"You're doing that thing again," Nessa said, not looking up from her arrangement.
"What thing?"
