Varang knew the moment she saw him.

It wasn’t instinct alone—though that played its part—but the way her sister’s posture shifted, just slightly, the way her attention kept drifting back as if tethered. Varang followed the line of that invisible pull and found its source standing far too comfortably among them.

No. Absolutely not.

She masked her reaction behind stillness, arms folding loosely as her gaze sharpened. He was wrong in ways that mattered—wrong stance, wrong scent, wrong history clinging to him like smoke that never quite washed out. Whatever charm he carried, whatever promises he’d whispered, Varang saw past it with ruthless clarity.

Her sister deserved strength that didn’t come with shadows. Loyalty that didn’t need explanation. A mate who wouldn’t turn heads for the wrong reasons.

Varang stepped closer, presence deliberate, unmistakable. This wasn’t a scene. Not yet. Just a quiet claim of authority, a warning written in posture and stare.

She didn’t have to say it out loud.

Disapproval radiated from her like heat off stone.

And if her little sister thought Varang would simply accept this choice—this mistake—she was about to learn just how far Varang was willing to go for family.