ROMAN
I patrolled the northern border of Silverclaw territory with tension coiled tight in my shoulders. The air was cold and crisp, scented with pine and the promise of rain. Perfect night for hunting rogues – exactly what I needed. A physical outlet for the storm raging inside me.
Three weeks without Vanessa. Three weeks of hell.
My wolf prowled beneath my skin, restless and angry. We both craved the same thing – to find her, claim her, keep her. But I'd promised to give her space. To let her process everything after Dr. Keane's treatments began restoring her memories.
"Alpha, eastern perimeter is clear," Marcus reported through the pack link.
I acknowledged with a grunt, scanning the treeline with predatory focus. Part of me hoped we'd find something – rogues, hunters, rival pack members, anything to justify violence. Anything to release this building pressure in my chest.
Nothing but shadows and silence. Disappointment tasted bitter.
