forward. Her small arms wrapped around Alpha Vlad's leg in a spontaneous, tight hug.
The soft creak of the wooden door echoed in the still air as Alpha Vlad stepped aside, gesturing for Casey and her daughter to step inside the modest cottage. Nestled just beyond the thick grove of towering pines near the pack house, it was small but warm. The scent of cedar lingered in the air, and the stone fireplace stood ready to be lit, its presence comforting despite the chill of the late afternoon breeze that crept through the open door.
Before Helen could answer, a loud clatter broke the moment—a young stable boy, his cap askew, stumbled into the courtyard, dropping a bucket of apples, the fruit rolling across the ground. "Sorry, miss!" he yelped, his voice high, scrambling to gather them, his cheeks red.
Casey's heart shot into her throat. "Lily!" she gasped, pulling the little girl back as if she had just hugged a sleeping bear, "I'm so sorry, Alpha. She didn't—
