Chapter 8: Lachlan's POV

Lachlan's POV

I watched the whole thing from the truck.

I had only stopped at the mill gate to check the delivery, and I never made it out of the cab.

I saw Mirabel Slingsby lean in to say something ugly to June.

I saw June's chin lift.

Then I saw the air in that yard change, and my wolf stood up inside me so fast it hurt.

Silver.

I had known it the night of the harvest supper, three years ago, the second I smelled her.

I had not known it would look like this.

Mirabel went down on her knees in the dirt, and June stood over her without lifting a hand.

My pride was so sharp.

Then my nephew grabbed her arm.

I was out of the truck before I knew I had moved.

By the time I crossed the yard, he was staring at the burn on his palm.

June was staring at the glow under her sleeve.

She looked up at me.

I stopped three feet away, because that was as close as I trusted myself to get.

"Cade," I said. "The barn. Now."

"She burned me."

"I saw. Walk."

He walked.

The old barn behind the mill smelled of hay and machine oil.

I shut the door behind us and stood with my back against it.

Cade turned around, wrapping a handkerchief around his hand.

He wasn't afraid anymore. That was what unsettled me.

He was smiling.

"You're losing your touch, Uncle," he said. "You let a girl do that in public."

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