CLAYTON
It's good to see Lucas again.
I clasp his forearm firmly, feeling the tension ripple through his muscles as we pull each other into a one-armed hug. The solid thump of my palm against his back carries more meaning than words could express between alphas. Our history sits between us like a third presence—unspoken but undeniable.
"It's good to see you, Lucas."
The words come easily, despite everything. Despite Ivy. Despite Ava. The complicated web binding us together has never fully untangled. Some boundaries, once crossed, leave permanent markers on a relationship.
Lucas studies my face, his golden eyes searching mine. Whatever he finds there seems to satisfy him—his shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, the line of his jaw softens.
The subtle shift speaks volumes to someone who's known him as long as I have.
It's been months, and my infatuation has faded. Even my wolf is calm in my head, no longer possessive over the whiffs of her scent, prolific in this place.
