The evening descended slowly upon Regina manor, and the last warmth of the setting sun faded into long shadows across the western courtyard while the scent of rain hovered faintly in the air, promising a storm that had not yet chosen the hour of its arrival.
Two lines of quiet footsteps echoed along the marble corridor.
Alessandro Romano walked alone.
His thoughts still tangled with the revelations of the morning and the tension growing within his own pack.
"Damn it," he muttered softly.
Behind him a voice slipped through the hallway like silk.
"Still talking to yourself, Alpha."
Alessandro stopped.
He turned slowly.
Three lines of familiar confidence stood framed within the archway as Isabella D'Angelo leaned casually against the carved pillar, her dark hair falling over one shoulder while her sharp gaze held the kind of calm arrogance that came only from someone who had never doubted her own value.
"Well," she said with a faint smile.
"That explains the grim expression."
