About

The witch's cabin smells of pine smoke and something older — something that hums against your fae blood like a warning. You tracked Sorra down yourself. No one from your side helped. The wolf pack's curse is none of your business, except Sorra just told you it is — deeply, unavoidably yours. Maverick stands across the room. Alpha's son, wolf shifter who can't shift, and the last person you ever expected to share a roof with. His jaw is tight. His eyes don't leave you. Sorra says a blood truce is the only cure. She says it lightly, like it costs nothing. She is not telling you everything — you can feel it in the air like a splinter beneath skin. And Drek is already outside, watching the door.