The Alpha Ordered Me to Bring a Dead Girl Home

I was grinding herbs in the apothecary when the message crystal beside my mortar flashed.

Someone was requesting access to my private channel.

“Are you done making a scene? If you are, come home.”

I recognized the sender’s seal. So did my wolf. She stirred briefly, then settled again.

Alpha Rowan Ashford. My former mate.

Attached to his seal was an image of me dancing at the Winter Moon gathering years ago. White silk, bare feet, his pack’s crest fastened at my throat. I hadn’t realized he’d kept it.

I looked at the girl in the image and laughed.

Five years.