I braced myself as the heavy door swung shut behind us, sealing me inside the triplets' bedroom.

Three sets of eyes burned into me—Dorian’s midnight-blue, sharp with challenge. Evander’s golden-brown, calculating and unreadable. Rowan’s hazel, soft yet searing, filled with

The packhouse was too loud.

Too many voices. Too many glances thrown my way.

But none of it mattered.

Because they were watching me.

Dorian. Evander. Rowan.

I felt them from across the dining hall, a weight that pressed into my skin, thickened the air in my lungs.

There was nowhere to run.

Not anymore.

The triplets had decided, and now they were everywhere.

I felt them in the air I breathed, in the shadows that stretched long in the packhouse corridors.

In the way my wolf no longer snarled when they got too close.

She