It had been two years already, and Brandon refused to give up. Time seemed to mean nothing to him, as though he had locked his will onto a single purpose—her. Emma was always at the pack den, working tirelessly on her stories, pouring her emotions into words that no one seemed ready to accept. Writing had become her escape, her shield, her only safe place where memories couldn't reach her. It was the only place she could control her world, even when everything else felt like it was slipping beyond her grasp.
However, each time she stepped out of the den, she would see him.
He was always there.
