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The wax was cold and hard. A heron, three lines beneath it. Her private seal.

The same one that she’d used on all my commendations. And my orders.

My grandmother’s.

I wedged my thumbnail beneath the seal and lifted it. I unfolded the sheet of paper and recognized her handwriting.

Four lines and a signature. The same as every order I’d ever been given.

Mays, Ruby.

Field rank, second class.

Last known location: Lockridge, north corridor.

Resolve.

And that was when my body gave out. Every honed, trained muscle simply gave up, and I fell forward.

“Ruby!”

CONAN

When Ruby fell forward, I lunged forward and caught her before she fell out of the chair. I scooped her in my arms and held her close.

Her warm cheek pressed against my bare chest, stoking an unfamiliar reaction inside. Her scent filled me, that alluring mix of rain and smoke, and beneath it something warm and sweet, like honey stirred into tea, which was one thing I’d been craving in this cottage.

Although I felt a need to protect my pack and vowed to do so as alpha, this was almost—overpowering.

The urge to care for her and protect her grew so strong that I could think of little else.

My wolf reveled in this experience. Mate. He murmured it as a fact, utterly content.

Content. That was how I’d felt this morning. Although I’d lain in the loft for some time before I’d fallen asleep, keenly aware of Ruby in front of the fire below, exhaustion had eventually carried me off. I’d had the most luxurious dreams, ones in which our pack was no longer hunted. We were safe. Living in peace.

And Ruby was there.

Her face was fuzzy at first, but then the vision sharpened, leaving no doubt that it was her.

The dreams I’d had were so unprecedented, so pleasant, I couldn’t help but wake up in a fantastic mood.

Even if my mate was here to kill me.

From where I stood, holding her pressed to my chest in front of the fire, I glanced down at the paper that had fallen from her hands. It sat face up on the rug. I read it and gritted my teeth.

It was as I’d expected, as I’d feared. I’d seen it before, signed by the very same woman—Elisabeth Mays. My father’s executioner. And Ruby’s grandmother.

She came to slowly, her eyes fluttering open, and she glanced at me in confusion. “Wha⁠—”

“It’s all right, Ruby,” I said gently. “I’ve got you.”

“My—my—” Her lip trembled and her face crumpled.

“I know.” Then I did something I hadn’t planned—I kissed the top of her head.

She didn’t curse or push me away. “Where did you get it?”

“My beta, Imogene. She retrieved it off an operative who was following you to ensure that—” I had to pause to swallow the instant sour taste in my mouth. “To ensure you never returned.”