“Mr. Blakely, would it be okay if I treated your wound?” Nia asks softly, emerging from the berth with a small leather medical kit clutched tightly in his trembling hands.Across the vibrating cabin of the transport, Allan and Manley glance at Merlin, then exchange a silent, stunned look between themselves. No words are needed. Their wide eyes say it all. What in the hell had just happened? Merlin has a well-known, ruthless rule in the Werewolf Mafia—he does not touch other wolves, especially weak ones. But when this Okoye male bit him, Merlin didn’t break his neck. He carried him. That was completely unhinged for a killer like him.Every pair of eyes in the cabin turns toward Nia as he takes hesitant steps across the metal floor.Merlin, draped in total icy detachment, casts Nia a cold, sideways glance before snapping his head back toward the bulkhead. “Not necessary,” he growls, his low voice sharp enough to freeze blood.The blunt rejection hits Nia hard. A bright, burning flush cr
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