#Chapter 52: Sanctuary

Emily I didn’t know if bringing Logan here was brave or stupid. Silverroot Sanctuary wasn’t built for cameras or Pack politics. It didn’t need Alphas towering around with that simmering expectation of strength. It was a place for softness. For silence. For wolves like me. The car rolled to a slow stop at the Sanctuary gates just past sunrise, dew still clinging to the tall grass and early mist curling over the moon-shaped stone path. There was no press yet—thank the stars. That had been my non-negotiable condition. One hour. Just us. And then the public could come. I opened the door before the driver could get out, stepping barefoot onto the gravel with practiced ease. My heels were in my bag. Here, you didn’t wear shoes if you didn’t have to. Logan joined me silently. His gaze swept the property like it was a battlefield, but his posture was relaxed, less rigid than usual. Maybe it was the air, all pine and sage. Maybe it was the place itself. Or maybe, just maybe,