The Alpha's Restraint

Torin

"Bordering close to madness, aren't you?" Jarek sighs. He drops his frame into the sturdy leather chair opposite my desk. "That is what happens when you refuse to let a political matter go."

Jarek leans forward. His hand slaps down on the worn parchment map spread across the oak surface. His thick fingers trace the jagged line marking the eastern border. "The land belongs to the IronTalon