Minutes later, Caspian arrived. He stepped out of a sleek black vehicle alongside his Omega Attendant, Scarlett Ashwood. Her soft laughter drifted through the main hall, and every wolf in the lobby turned to look. Ears practically swiveled. Nostrils flared. The scent of her, cloyingly sweet like overripe honeysuckle, wrapped around everything.
Scarlett. The thorn buried deep in my side.
The whispers grew louder as Caspian walked with her into the den. Every wolf under his command knew I was his chosen mate. But Scarlett's constant presence had begun to blur the lines of rank and loyalty. Caspian was involved with her in ways he had never been with me. He gave her rides in his personal vehicle, shared meals at his private table, and even granted her access to restricted sections of the den where pack strategy was discussed. Areas I, his supposed mate, had never been invited into.
Inside me, my wolf stirred with a low, bitter growl. She had stopped fighting about this a long time ago. Now she simply watched with flat, golden eyes, waiting.