CHAPTER 72

ALPHA BORIS’ POV

The night air was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire. Zelda sat beside me, cradling her glass of wine in her hand, the flames casting a soft glow on her features.

There was a storm beneath her calm surface—I could sense it in the way her shoulders occasionally tensed, in how her gaze lingered too long on the fire.

She chuckled softly after taking a sip. “Funny, I used to hate the taste of this stuff,” she murmured. “Now I find it comforting. Isn’t that strange?”

I gave her a small smile. “Strange is a relative term. Maybe it’s not the wine, but the silence that you’ve come to like.”

Her gaze slid over to me then, “Maybe.”

For a long moment, I didn’t speak. The words sat at the edge of my tongue like wolves at the border; dangerous if released, painful if restrained. I wanted to tell her. That the woman I had always loved, despite everything, despite time and distance, was her.

That I had been blind to it for too long. That no matter how far she tried