I slipped out of the penthouse just before dawn, shoes in my hand so my heels wouldn't click on the marble. Devon was still sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over the spot I'd vacated, chest rising slow and deep. I told myself I wasn't running. I was surviving.
Two days later the entire pack was crammed into the great hall for the unification banquet. Crystal chandeliers, silver trays, wolves in suits pretending we weren't one wrong word away from tearing each other apart.
Devon had ordered me to "assist." Translation: stand in the corner looking useful while he paraded his perfect future Luna.
I wore the dress he'd sent: black leather, backless, hem barely covering my ass. No bra. Thong optional. I'd rolled my eyes when the box arrived, but I put it on anyway. Because screw him. And because I wanted every wolf in that room to choke on the sight.
