Avery's POV
I stood frozen, dagger clutched tightly in my trembling hand, my heart slamming against my ribs like a caged animal. The air between us was thick, charged with emotions I didn't want to acknowledge. My fingers ached from how hard I was gripping the weapon, but I couldn't relax. Not in front of him.
Not in front of the man who had torn my world apart.
Dylan took a step forward, his expression unreadable, but I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled slightly as if restraining himself. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, his naked body exposed under the dim moonlight, but I refused to let my eyes linger.
I focused on his face instead, the same face I had hated for weeks.
But now, it was also the face of the white wolf I had once saved.
A cruel twist of fate.
"Avery, please," Dylan said, his voice low, almost pleading.