Evander's POV
Steam curled up from the sink like breath. I braced my hands against the marble edge and watched the water drip from my fingers in slow rhythm, each drop catching the light before vanishing into the drain. The scent of soap and iron hung in the air. It was the one part of this damned warehouse that didn't reek of blood, smoke, or obedience—my personal bathroom, a room that pretended I wasn't a monster.
I dragged a wet hand through my hair, watching the strands darken and slick back. The mirror was fogged, but I didn't need clarity to know what stared back. The same jaw locked in frustration, the same cold eyes that frightened every man in my pack. But right now, they looked tired. Irritated. And, though I'd never admit it aloud, dangerously human.
Odette.
Her name had the audacity to echo in my head like it owned space there.
