Thiago’s POV I returned the bar to its rack and sat up. Sweat soaked the collar of my charcoal-gray T-shirt, but my shoulder moved without pain. I trained in my private gym most mornings. Usually, it helped me think. That morning, I kept remembering Amara standing beside her open door, waiting for an answer I knew would hurt her. Dario appeared at half past six with a folder under his arm. Kellan and Ivara followed him inside. “Is there a reason all three of you are here?” “They wanted a word,” Dario said. “Several,” Kellan added. I put down the towel. “Close the door.” Ivara did. Her black braids were tied back, and she still wore the burgundy jacket she used for the early patrol checks. Kellan leaned against the wall beside her, folding his arms across his gray training shirt. “You finally found your mate,” he said. “We find out over dinner, and before we can ask about it, you’re telling us there was a rejection.” “An attempt, actually.” “That doesn’t make it better.” I l
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