KATRINA THE walls of the packhouse had never felt cold like today. I stood at the entrance, my fingers trembled as I gripped the doorframe, and my heart sank even further with every laugh that echoed out from the inside. His laugh. Their laugh. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t just about the heaviness in my chest, it was more of the obvious change that has swept through my home in a blink of an eye. My home, where I had run this pack for a year in Xavier’s absence felt foreign, as though I no longer belonged. Steeling myself, I pushed the door open, stepping into the living room. There they were–Xavier, sitting comfortably, so comfortably beside his mother, with his hand wrapped around hers. Bianca’s. The woman who shouldn’t be here. The woman who shouldn’t be his. Xavier’s mother, Evelyn, was the first to notice me, then a smile played across her face. The same smile that used to comfort me, but this time, it felt empty. “Oh, Katrina,” she greeted, her voice too sweet. “We were just t
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