Thorne
The scent of burnt herbs lingered faintly in the corridor — sharp, metallic, unsettling. It was one of those smells that got under my skin and made my wolf uneasy, the kind that whispered something's wrong. And for once, I agreed with him. There was nothing right about that woman Josie had taken in. Carolyn. Even her name sat bitter on my tongue.
I'd been pacing my office, trying to shake off the gnawing disquiet, but the feeling only grew heavier, pressing on my chest until I couldn't take it anymore. My wolf rumbled a low warning — don't do this, Thorne. But I ignored him. I needed answers, and if no one else was going to dig them out, I damn well would.
I made my way to the kitchen, boots thudding against the polished floor, each step echoing the irritation clawing through me. The head maid jumped when she saw me, fumbling the tray she'd been carrying.
"Alpha Thorne!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.
"Where's the new maid?" I asked sharply.
