The severity of my morning did not match the lightness in my chest as I returned to the mansion. The blackmail threat from Mrs. Whitmore had been neutralized with brutal efficiency—a few strategic phone calls, some not-so-subtle threats about her own illegal activities, and financial incentives that would ensure her permanent silence. The woman wouldn't dare breathe a word about Seraphina's human status now.
My wolf prowled with satisfaction beneath my skin. We had protected what was ours.
*Ours.*
The thought gave me pause as I entered the mansion's grand foyer. When exactly had I started thinking of Seraphina as *mine* in a way that went beyond our arrangement? Beyond the pup she carried?
"Everything handled, Alpha?" Marcus, my head of security, fell into step beside me.
"Mrs. Whitmore won't be a problem anymore," I confirmed, my voice clipped.
"And the media coverage for tomorrow's event?"
