His Father's Mate
Raze pressed harder against my ribs, silver-edged instincts flaring at the violation of our territory, our bloodline, our mate.
I stared at the document, throat tight. “It’s not Karla.”
“No,” Noah confirmed. “She used an existing channel. She didn’t build it.”
“Who built it?”
“I’m working on it,” he said. “I wanted you to see what it was first.”
He left. I sat there three long minutes, the bond humming with the need to reach for Aria, to wrap her and our unborn pup in the strength of pack and wolf and everything I was now Alpha King enough to defend. Then I picked up the phone and called Victor.
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