I watched Seraphina walk out of the interview with mixed feelings. Pride dominated—she'd been remarkable, far exceeding my expectations. But beneath that, my wolf sensed her unease, growing with each passing minute after the cameras stopped rolling.
That troubled me more than I cared to admit.
Returning to my office, I settled behind my desk, trying to focus on the stack of documents demanding my attention. A territorial dispute between pack members, budget allocations for our upcoming security upgrades, and preliminary polling data from my campaign team. Important matters, all of them.
Yet my mind kept drifting back to Seraphina.
The way she'd held herself during the interview—spine straight, chin lifted, those incredible amber eyes direct and unflinching. The natural grace with which she'd fielded Whitney's deliberately provocative questions. How she'd shown that perfect blend of strength and warmth that would endear her to our people.
