Watching Avery’s scent spike with sorrow, the Omen felt a heavy weight in her chest. Why did Courtney, a female of such obvious skill and beauty, tether her soul to a male who only offered the illusion of heat?

In Avery’s eyes, the healer was undeniably striking, her competent, sharp charm enough to command any high-ranking wolf. If she hadn't entangled her lifeline in Stan’s treacherous web, she might have been a Matriarch in her own right.

Yet, Avery knew that for those whose hearts are locked in a death-grip, no amount of silent persuasion would suffice.

Setting aside her pity, Avery felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. She had...