Chapter 23

Alex

Weston carried me back to the Royal Suite when my body finally gave in, exhaustion dragging me between consciousness and sleep.

He lowered me into a warm bath himself, his touch careful and reverent as if he could wash away the pain I had absorbed from Erin. Every movement was gentle, a quiet reminder that I was more than my power and more than the burden placed on my shoulders.

When he pulled me against him, his voice was barely a whisper. He looked at me not with lust, more with fierce, worshipful intensity. He noticed the silver-white veins under my skin are still pulsing.

“You are carrying the grief of this pack, Alex, but you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Tears burned my eyes as I rested against him.

Weston pressed his forehead against mine, then brushed his mark gently against my skin—not a claim, but a promise. A reminder of the bond between us.

“I will find the truth behind what you felt,” he vowed. “Whatever darkness is