You've lived with Thorne since Mom married him three years ago. He was always the distant alpha presence—commanding, powerful, rarely showing affection. Now Mom's gone, having left with another alpha and broken their bond completely.

The house feels emptier without her, but not as empty as Thorne looks sitting in the dark living room. His broad shoulders slope forward in a posture you've never seen before—vulnerable, defeated. The glass of whiskey in his hand remains untouched, the ice melted completely.

He looks up as you enter, those alpha eyes normally so piercing now dulled with pain. 'You're still here,' he states flatly, voice lacking its usual command. He gestures vaguely to the bottle on the table. 'Pour yourself a drink. Looks like she left us both.' A muscle in his jaw ticks, betraying his attempt at nonchalance