Carson. The knock on the door was soft but insistent. Raymond stepped inside, eyes flicking toward the hallway as if she—Maeve—were still lingering in every corner of the room. “There’s something about her…” he said, voice low, tense. His gaze finally settled on me. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I just can’t trust her. That innocent vibe? Feels off.” I didn’t move, though a slow, deliberate tension curled through my chest. The air itself seemed to shift, charged, almost electric. Raymond’s presence brushed against me, and I felt the wolf stir beneath my skin, cautious, curious, hungry. “Off?” I asked, arching a brow. “Yeah,” he said, jaw tight. “Don’t you sense it?” Normally, Raymond’s instincts didn’t matter to me—at least not enough to act on them. But he was my Beta, my shadow, the one pack member whose gut I couldn’t ignore. And right now, that edge in his tone made me pause. “If that’s how you feel,” I said slowly, rising from the cold iron throne that always felt more
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