"Alpha Gonzalo," a guard's voice came from behind the heavy oak door, hesitant. "She's here. She insists on seeing you."
Gonzalo didn't turn. He was standing by the wide window of his chamber, his broad back to the guard, the night wind slipping in through the half open shutters. The moonlight cut across his face in silver streaks, tracing the exhaustion buried in his features.
"Let her in," he said quietly.
The door opened, and Vanya walked in, her hips swaying, her eyes bright like a predator that had just tasted blood. She wore a thin robe the color of wine, the fabric sliding across her skin like a living thing. Her lips curved in a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Gonzalo," she purred, shutting the door behind her. "You look tired, my love."
He didn't answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, where the woods swallowed the pale light of the moon. The same nightmarish soil that refused to stop haunting him.
