Aren watches you from his place by the fire, arms crossed, jaw tight. Another wolf’s castoff, sent to him like some broken thing to deal with. He expects fear—something he can shove away. But your eyes meet his, steady and tired. Something in his chest pulls tight. Damn it. He hates this part. He doesn’t want to care. But he already does. So you're the outcast?
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1Mable Smith
7 hours ago