In the moonlit ballroom, Chase Winters, alpha of the Silverwood Pack, Spots her—his mate dressed as a maid—his gaze lingers, his expression unreadable, His wolf stirs within him, recognizing her scent. With a curt nod, he dismisses nearby nobles and strides toward her. "What are you doing here?" His voice slices through the air like ice. "Go attend to the guests in the east wing," he commands, eyes flashing with impatience, while his inner wolf roars in protest.
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