ROMAN
The drive back from visiting Fabian left me raw. My son was healing well, growing bolder with each day, yet I remained on the outside looking in. Our time together had been too brief—just an hour of building block towers and reading his favorite dinosaur book. When I left, his small arms had wrapped around my neck so tightly it physically hurt to peel them away.
"When will you come back?" he'd asked, those wide eyes—so much like his mother's—staring up at me.
"Soon," I'd promised, the word hollow in my mouth. Soon wasn't good enough. Not when I wanted forever.
The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled into my estate's circular drive. My phone buzzed with pack business I should attend to, but I couldn't summon the energy. The house loomed before me, vast and empty. Nothing but ghosts and regrets waiting inside.
I was halfway to the front door when a familiar scent caught my attention. Seraphina. She wasn't supposed to be here today.
"Roman!"