RYKER’S POV
Dust clung to my boots as I shoved the car door open, gravel crunching under my soles, Tenebrous’s castle looming dark, its tower jagged against the dusk sky. My chest burned, rage boiling, Selenea’s face—her dark eyes, her lie, swearing she didn’t know me—cutting deeper than any blade. I stormed through the gates, my boots pounding stone, guards scattering, their armor clanking, their gasps trailing me. My hands shook, my nails biting my palms, blood trickling warm, her voice echoing: I don’t know you. Lies. She remembered—her flinch, her hate, it screamed the truth. I’d killed her, my claws in her chest, her heart stopping, her body tumbling off the cliff, and now I love her, I need her, the ache a fire I couldn’t douse.
I burst into the hall, my shoulder slamming a table,
