Chapter 11: Mine

Torin's POV

I woke on the floor of my study with her sweater under my head.

The lamp was still on, and the desk was a wreck, and the room smelled of her.

She wasn't in it.

My wolf had been dead quiet for hours, and now it began to pace.

I knew where she was before I knew why I knew.

She was one floor up, and she was not moving.

I took the stairs three at a time.

My mother's door stood open, and the lamp was lit, and the cabinet by the far wall hung by one hinge.

Orla sat on the floor in front of it.

She had her back against the wall and a sheet of old paper in her hands.

She looked up at me, and I stopped in the doorway.

I have seen her angry, and I have seen her frightened.

I had never seen her look the way she looked then.

Her face was white, and her eyes were dry and very steady.

"Read it," she said.

She held the paper out.

I crossed the room and took it.

I read the title.

I read the line that said Torin Kensington, age twenty-one, wounds mortal, and my own name went cold in my mouth.

I read what came after.

The wolf was drawn from the girl.

Willing: no.

I read it a second time, and then I made myself read it a third.

My hand started shaking, and I put the paper down on the worktable before I tore it.

"It's mine," Orla said from the floor. "The wolf. The one in you."

I could not speak.

For ten years I had been the strongest Alpha the Kensington line had seen in three generations.

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