“Luna, the fire. Are you okay?” Kieran’s voice cut in, tense and urgent. “Alpha went in after you. You couldn’t see, and he insisted on risking himself. That chandelier—if it fell, it would have—”
“Kieran, stop!” Drake growled, a low rumble that made my chest ache. “She’s safe. That’s all that matters. I don’t care about the chandelier, I don’t care about anything else.”
I could feel the weight of him on me, and the smoke stung his eyes, his skin smelled like ash, his clothes were torn, burned in places. I gasped, my heart pounding, and I hated him for it. I hated that he’d risk his life for me when he’d let Chiara live in my place.
And then I saw her. Chiara. She stepped out from the smoke, pristine in white, pulling her suitcase, elegant and deliberate. My stomach twisted.
“Alpha Thornhill,” she said softly. Her voice calm, almost mocking.
Drake stiffened, then let go of me reluctantly. He smoothed his hair and turned to her. “Honey… a business partner’s here. Just um, wait a second.”