I have one rule: never bond. I survived a rejected bond once, so I built a career out of everyone else’s happily-ever-afters instead.
Now I’m the mediator desperate packs beg for when the county threatens to tear up their charter.
The Hale pack is my biggest case yet.
A legendary mountain lodge, a severed bond nobody will explain, one season to prove they’re stable, and three men who scent-match me the second I walk through their door.
Rhys wants to court me like it’s a foregone conclusion. Soren watches me from his kitchen like I’m either a threat or a miracle, and he hasn’t decided which.
And Gideon Hale, their impossible pack alpha, orders me off his mountain with one breath while stocking my favorite suppressants with the next.
I can’t have them. Bonding a client could cost me my license, and Gideon would rather burn his own charter than trust a scent match again. He broke his pack once.
No client has ever known how close my own bond came to breaking me.
But biology doesn’t read contracts. And the clause that’s going to wreck us was never in theirs.
