Chapter 95. Wolves Can’t See the Future

The sudden rise of emotion in him has me on edge, too, and I panic that I’m scaring away my only ray of hope of escaping. He appears to be running away, but as he turns to close the door, the tear I catch in his eye silences me, and he pauses, taking a deep breath and lowering his hands. The open door between us keeping us a couple of feet apart, but his sadness overwhelms me.

“Eight years of silence. Eight years watching her sleep, eight years hoping that one day the things she said… I’d accepted that my friend had lost her mind completely. Eight years… and I convinced myself that her visions and stories were that of a madwoman, broken by a battle that convinced her that her mate was an evil player in some bigger plan, and her confinement here was a betrayal to silence her. Eight years justifying that she was better off asleep than to be tortured by an illness of the mind.” I don’t know if he’s saying this to himself or me. His eyes are not on me, just glazed and distant as a