Kalil stood on the rooftop of the hospital’s west wing, the cool night wind brushing against his skin as lights flickered below. Port of Spain stretched wide beneath him- alive, pulsing, unaware of the storm building inside his chest.

  He hadn't seen Stacy all day. But her scent had changed.

  It was subtle. Almost unnoticeable to any normal man.

  But he wasn’t normal.

  And his wolf was pacing.

  Why does she smell like sadness? Like she's lost something?

  Kalil gritted his teeth, trying to shut it out, trying to ignore the strange ache in his chest. The one that had no business being there. She wasn’t his. She never was.

  "Dr. Kalil?”

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  He turned. It was Nurse Aliyah, holding a stack of discharge forms.

  “You okay? You look…” Her voice softened. “Distant.”

  “I’m fine,” Kalil said, tone clipped.

  She hesitated, then added, “I heard Stacy and her boyfriend broke up.”

  His head snapped toward her before he could control it.

  Aliyah’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

  Kalil’s pulse roared in his ears. “When?”

  “Earlier today. She was crying in the breakroom. Said she ended things with him.”

  The paper in his hand crumpled.

  Aliyah blinked. “You good, doc?”

  Kalil turned away, barely managing a nod. “Thanks. You can go.”

  She left, clearly uncomfortable.

  And Kalil was left alone again—with a surge of heat rising in his chest, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack.

  His wolf stilled.

  Then growled.

  She’s free.

  The thought slammed into him like thunder.

  But with it came another:

  And now what the hell are you going to do about it?

  He couldn’t stop thinking of her. Her scent. The sadness in her eyes. The way she avoided him like touching him would burn.

  She was hurting.

  And he hated that someone else had been the reason.

  But worse—he wasn’t sure if he had the right to fix it.

  Not yet.

  He pulled out his phone. Stared at her number. His thumb hovered over the call button… then stopped.

  Instead, he sent one message.

  Kalil: Meet me on the rooftop. 10 minutes.

  And for once, he waited. No mask. No coldness. No armor.

  Just a man with a storm inside him—and a mate he didn’t know how to love without destroying.