KIERAN
I found Dorian near the edge of the training field, arms folded, eyes surveying the younger wolves as they sparred under the noonday sun. I didn’t wait for him to notice me before speaking.
“How did she take it?” I asked, my tone low, careful, like I was probing something sharp. He turned to me, eyes bright with amusement already, like he had been waiting for me to ask. His chuckle came before his words, the kind that crawled under your skin because you knew exactly who it was about.
“Oh, she was pissed, Kieran,” he said, drawing out the word like it tasted sweet on his tongue.
“Looked at me like I was the one who made the call. If looks could kill…” He laughed again, shaking his head. “She almost knocked over a chair—the poor thing didn’t even do anything. Stormed out of the hall and slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls. It was a scene.”
I smirked without meaning to, a flicker of guilt dancing beneath it. “Serves her right,” I muttered, mostly to myself, but he hear
