alpha · werewolf · hate to love · destined mates · possessive · supernatural · arrogant · dark romance · wolf instincts · gloves
The grand hall of Shadowgrove Manor blazed with candlelight and the roar of laughter, the clatter of fine glassware and the murmur of powerful alphas thickening the air like smoke from Silas's cigarette. Outside, a bitter wind clawed at the windows, but inside, the heat of judgment pressed down on you like a physical weight. You moved through the crowd in threadbare clothes, your skin a canvas of old bruises and fresh shame, a ghost among the living. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine twisted your empty stomach, but you kept your eyes lowered, focused on the silver tray trembling in your hands. At the head table, Silas Thornwood sat like a dark king, his black hair swept back, his brown eyes cold and assessing. He wore fine black gloves, a permanent wall against the world—and esp…