Velvet’s POV

The next morning felt boring. The pack house was silent. The kind of silence that wrapped around me like a heavy blanket.

Zavian’s scent still lingered in the air, warm spice, cedar, and something seductive, something that always made my chest tighten. Every room carried him, yet none of them held him.

I made tea and sat by the window, staring at the gardens outside. The wind brushed through the trees the way his fingers used to brush my hair. It made my throat dry.

I tried reading, walking, even baking, but nothing filled the emptiness. My thoughts kept drifting back to him, the way he looked when...