Why did she let him in?
Why did she kill him now?
What good is a queen who invites the ghost inside?
She could feel Beckett at her back before she heard him. His footsteps were light for a man who could break a wolf's neck with one twist, but the bond between them pulsed a silent warning , a heartbeat drumming under her ribs that wasn't hers alone.
"Say something," Beckett muttered. He stood so close his breath warmed the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.
Magnolia's fingers twitched at her sides. "What do you want me to say?"
"That you see them," he said. "That you see they're tearing themselves apart while they wait for you to tell them this isn't the end."
She barked a laugh that turned sharp as ice. "It isn't the end."
Beckett's hand ghosted to her shoulder. "Then say it like you believe it."
