KIERAN’S POV
The drive back to Nightfang was torturous.
Every mile, every turn, put more space between me and what I’d been forced to leave behind—Sera’s lips, swollen and soft beneath mine. The almost. The choice she’d nearly made, right before the world barged in and ruined everything.
I’d never been so angry at the sight of the packhouse looming out of the trees, all stone and shadow and responsibility.
Lights burned on the lower level, brighter than they should have been at this hour. A knot tightened low in my gut.
I cut the engine and stepped out, already feeling Ashar coil awake beneath my skin—not with desire this time, but with wariness. The kind that came when something smelled wrong.
Sera lingered beside me. The cold night air stirred loose strands of her hair around her face, and she looked so beautiful, my chest ached.
She watched the packhouse too, and I was sure the wrongness in the air was amplified by her gifts.
