Torn Bond: The Alpha's Late Regret

belle

ng the door behind her wit

face, sat down at my desk, and pulled up

t of my life confined to this estate. Gasper always said it was for my own good, claiming that without him or an escort, I was better off sta

a man who rarely looked at me, I had carved my days into rigid routines. Two hours of ancient runes,

I never imagined those solitary hours would b

red away the empty plates, she hesitated, then mentioned that the Alpha had a

tire return week. Today was Gasper's turn to host, surrounded b

n reviewing the formula for the scent-erasing brew and me

n to sink below the treeline, casting

as t

my ankles, completely concealing the twisted silver scars on my left leg. I pulled on dark leather gloves, s

hurried over from the dining ro

ously toward the empty driveway. "Please let me call one of the pack

night," I cut her off gently. "There is no

ont doors and stepped out

sive instinct took over. My shoulders curled inward. I lowered my chin, pulled the hea

trangers felt like a silent, cutting question: how could someone so grand and accomplished as Alpha Monroe have a crippled m

nd and hailed

a'am?" the d

," I replied, slidin

ackwood Grill. An examiner would be waiting there to evaluate my runes and practical potion brewing

inutes through the thi

pposite the Blackwood Grill, I paid the

ing, gilded facade of the luxury restau

n entrance was a sleek, obsidian Bentley. The custom silver emble

er's

ead sank straight

ce, the private gathering-they

here my only chance at free