Five years apart, and Finn looked even more handsome than before. Younger, somehow. His wolf had clearly benefited from the life he'd stolen. His coat was cut from the finest cloth in the Territories, the cuffs stitched with silver-thread sigils marking the Thornwood Alpha line. A line he'd inherited only because I had stabilized his wolf with my Omega blood and given him the strength to shift at all.
My daughter and I, by contrast, were dressed in rags. Our rough-spun clothes had more holes than I could count. We carried no pack scent. We smelled like the wild, like dirt and hunger and the open road.
"Husband, didn't you promise me yourself? You said within three years, you would send someone to bring me back to the territory. It's been five."
Finn's expression darkened, though a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. I caught the subtle shift in his scent, that iron-rust sharpening beneath the damp bark, the way it always did when he was cornered.
"Narelle, I will bring you back. But not now. The den is hosting a feast for the Grand Pack Council delegates and visiting Alphas. Take the pup and leave. We'll talk later."