The Wolf (Dominion Hall #12)

My grandmother’s will was simple: Stay in Charleston for one year. Don’t sell. Don’t ask questions.

But questions are all I have. About the cracks in the walls. The whispers about the Dane family. And the man who showed up one stormy night.

Gideon Dane isn’t just some quiet drifter with calloused hands and a stare that could cut glass. He moves like a soldier. He watches like a predator. And when he touches me, I forget every rule I promised to follow.

He says the inn isn’t safe. That someone is watching. That he’s here to protect me. But protection feels a lot like possession in his hands. And the longer he stays, the more I realize—The real danger isn’t what’s buried in these walls. It’s what’s waking up inside me.