Mated to two rival alphas
One of the senior warriors near the champagne table shifted his weight like he was calculating distance and exits at the same time.
The man wasn’t as tall as Jax. Leaner. Built for something sharper than pure force. Dark blond hair cut close. Even from across the room his eyes looked pale in a way that didn’t belong to ordinary wolves, not gold, not amber, something closer to silver that seemed lit from behind.
My mother exhaled beside me, and the sound carried that particular brightness she reserved for people she thought could be useful.
“Alpha Adrian,” she said. “Silver Hollow. Oh, Viktor. This is good.”