Damian's P.O.V.
I watched them from a distance, my jaw clenched tighter with every passing second. Kiera and Rowan, standing too close, speaking in low tones like they were the only two people in the world. The tension in the air around them didn’t seem hostile—it felt… familiar. Too familiar.
I should’ve been relieved. Rowan had returned, and Kiera didn’t look ready to rip his head off, which was a small miracle. Instead, I felt something else entirely—something bitter and unwanted clawing its way up my chest.
Jealousy.
It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? I had no right to feel this way. Kiera was mine.
She's been mine to claim long enough for the idea to stick in my head and to those around us.
Yet the sight of her standing there with her former mate, the history between them lingering
