Vincent’s POV
The scream rips through the palace. “Your Majesty! She’s…”
The words die as I burst into the chamber. My heart stumbles, then stops. My daughter lies crumpled on the polished floor, limbs slack, lips tinged black. Her shallow breaths are the only sound in the world.
Everything inside me explodes.
“Get her up!” My roar shakes the walls. Healers scramble, robes swishing, hands fumbling like they’re children playing at saving lives. Useless. My daughter’s dying, and they’re tripping over their own feet.
“Move!” I snarl, shoving them aside. I lift her myself, her body light as feathers in my arms. Too light. Her head rests against my chest, her warmth faint, fading. I press my ear to her lips. Breaths—thin, barely there.
Adam, my wolf, surges, frantic. “She’s slipping, Vin
