Owen Tillson arrived over my river with a warning and a ruined name, yet the fated-mate bond still locked into place.
I walked him into the yard at dawn and rejected him before the moon and every wolf I was sworn to lead, certain that duty would be enough.
Three years on, Landers Ridge is eating through its seed grain, Hillsford is angling for a wedding, and the rogue alpha I drove out is the only one willing to hold my border.
I hire him and put him in the same cabin where I once sent him away, even though the severed bond still follows us both.
He will not plead, and I will not gamble the pack on a feeling, but a contract is a thin story to tell ourselves.
Any second chance we take now has to be a choice we make with our eyes open, remembering what that first rite already cost.
