IVAN'S POV
Trees blurred past me as I shoved my body forward, breaking through bushes and thorns, the wind breezing against my fur. The deeper I ran, the more the edge inside me began to dull.
The more the rage bled into something else.
Before I left the study, my chest had been drowning in rage. In guilt. In questions I didn't want to face yet. Questions about the future. About Maeve. About Asha.
I didn't know him yet. But Goddess—I wanted to. The reality of it sat heavy in my chest. The pull toward him was primal. A desperate need from a father who had failed for so long to be one.
I wanted to know him. To forge something with him that was mine. Something different. Something better than what my father had ever given me.
The cold, loveless shell I'd grown up under—I wouldn't pass that down to my son.
And yet, not knowing how any of this would turn out gnawed at me.
