I didn't know what kind of reaction I expected from Anastasia when she woke up and found herself changed out of her soaked clothes. Even for me, it felt like stepping over a boundary between pack duty and something far more dangerous.
The moment her eyes opened, she shot upright.
Her instincts flared instantly, arms crossing over her chest in defense. "Why are you in my room? Where is Felicia?" Her voice was sharp, alert, like a wolf sensing intrusion in her den.
Felicia. Right. The one who had left her in my care.
"Director Evans went back to rest," I said calmly, keeping my Alpha energy steady so she wouldn't panic further. "I'm the one taking care of you now."
Her gaze dropped—fast—landing on the bathrobe I had thrown on after cleaning her up. Confusion flickered across her face, then suspicion.
"You…" Her voice cracked slightly. "Why are you wearing a bathrobe?"
