Isadora's POV
I had been watching him for days.
Not in the way I used to watch him. Not the soft, warm kind of watching that used to make my chest feel full just from seeing him across a room. This was different. This was the watching you did when something was wrong and you were trying to figure out exactly when it went wrong and how you missed it.
He trained every morning. At the same time. Same ground. Same steady, controlled movements that made the younger wolves stop what they were doing just to watch him work. He corrected their forms with patience, which he did not always show in other places. He laughed at something one of the warriors said. A real laugh. Short and genuine, the kind that changed his whole face for just a second before it was gone.
I had not made him laugh like that for quite a while now.
