Lucas's POV
He walked out of the room they'd kept her with a small smile on his face.
Had he been too impulsive by giving her a wolfsbane-laced dagger?
Fuck yes.
His wolf had snarled out in his head, telling him a million ways that could go wrong, but Lucas didn't seem to care. She would either plunge that knife into his chest, or not.
But she didn't. Hell, she couldn't. He'd see. The defiance in her eyes, but he knew she wouldn't.
It was so hard to let go of her and not want to hold her in his arms, but it was already risky enough that he'd kept her in his pack, under his mother's watch.
He could already tell that she already had her men trailing his every move, but it didn't matter. This Little Wolf of his, he was willing to protect with his life.
Turning past the hallway, he found Freya walking towards his room. She let out a sigh when her gaze found him.
"Lucas!" She exclaimed.
"Freya," he muttered, walking closer to her. "Why have you come, sister?"
