Raymond stood in his study, gazing out of the window as moonlight spilled across the quiet grounds of the pack house. The glass of wine in his hand was untouched, save for the faint smear of his fingerprints on its surface. His broad shoulders were tense, his jaw tight as he prepared himself for what lay ahead. Tonight wasn’t about strength or dominance. It was about truth. And truth often came at a cost.

He tilted the glass to his lips and sipped, the deep crimson liquid warming his throat. A soft knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called, his voice steady despite the...