Five years of mating, and I had never once considered it. I had suppressed my bloodline, muted my scent with wolfsbane tinctures until even my own wolf could barely recognize me, poured the Silvercrest fortune and every alliance my family name carried into building the Ironmaw Pack from nothing. Five years of disappearing into the role of quiet, submissive mate. Five years of watching him grow powerful on resources he never once questioned the origin of. But the first time the thought came, it came with a force that nearly knocked me sideways.
And my wolf. My wolf, who had been silent through all of it, who had curled into that dark unreachable place and refused to surface, finally stirred. Not with grief. Not with rage. With something quieter and far more dangerous. A cold, clear recognition. The kind of stillness that comes right before a predator decides it is finished being prey.
"Theron, I don't know who you are anymore." My voice was quiet, almost calm. "I really don't. Not even a little. You feel like a complete stranger to me."
I smiled, cold and hollow, and took one step back. Then another.