Ethan had taken this photo in the brief window before Dakota had fully processed what losing their daughter meant, before the grief had consumed her completely. She'd been exhausted, in pain, and still bleeding from the difficult delivery, but for those few moments, she'd just held both babies and looked peaceful.
He'd thought maybe they could survive it together. Maybe the mate bond and their love for each other and for their surviving son would be strong enough to carry them through losing half of what they'd created.
But he'd been wrong. The bond hadn't been strong enough. His love hadn't been strong enough. And Dakota had shattered in ways he couldn't repair, had run into winter territory seeking escape from grief she couldn't survive, and had nearly died in the frozen wilderness before search parties had found her almost a year later with no memories of any of it.
