Chapter 11 The Game Behind The Mask

The throne room was silent now, its velvet walls holding onto secrets like ghosts. They had both kneeled—two wolves surrendering to something bigger than dominance or submission. But morning always came, and with it, reality returned like a bitter draft beneath the door. Isla sat alone in the reading parlor, curled in a leather armchair with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A fire crackled, and a cup of untouched tea sat on the table beside her. She was dressed simply—one of the long satin gowns Dominic had ordered for her, but without the familiar collar.