Chapter 7: 7

Tristan didn’t leave the ceremonial hall for a long me. Even a er the guests had been ushered out some in trembling silence, others whispering behind trembling hands he remained on the cold marble floor, cradling the body he believed was mine. His breaths hitched in uneven, jagged bursts. Sweat and tears clung to his skin. The Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack, the man bred to command armies and bend crowds with a glance, looked nothing like a leader. He looked like a man who had just watched...