When Aaron says my name, it doesn't echo.It settles.Like a stone dropped into still water, ripples move outward through the hall — subtle shifts of posture, quieting laughter, heads angling just slightly in our direction. I rise slowly, refusing to rush. If I'm too nervous, they'll smell it. If I look too submissive, they'll decide what that means.The wooden floor feels too loud beneath my boots as I approach the head table. My pulse beats in my ears, my wolf stirring — restless, prowling along the edges of my skin. Aaron doesn't move until I'm close enough to touch. Then he stands, and the room straightens with him. At his right now sits Isabella — luminous, composed, her emerald green dress catching the warm lanternlight like morning dew sparkling on a grass blade. She watches me with soft eyes and a measured smile. Aaron steps around the table and stops at my side. Not behind me. Not in front. Beside.The statement is intentional."This is Xavier," he says evenly. "He will be st
Magbasa pa