Jake was supposed to be running a training session for his advanced warriors. He’d been in the middle of drills, barking commands, Rome razor-focused. Until the wind shifted.
Honey and strawberries.
The scent hit him like a punch to the gut. Rome whined low in his chest, restless and alert, already knowing. She was nearby.
Jake’s concentration faltered. He scanned the field until he spotted her. Pale, determined, too damn stubborn for her own good.
Lyra.
She was running drills with the group she’d been assigned, moving slower than usual, her body visibly fighting every motion. Through the bond, he could feel it. Her exhaustion bled into him like a frayed nerve, shaky and unsteady. It took everything he had not to storm over and carry her off the field.
Why today, of all days? Why cou
