Vincent’s POV
Her body felt feather-light against me, so fragile it was as if I were holding nothing at all—and that emptiness scared me more than anything.
I carried Myra through the palace gates at a near run, her small body fever-hot against my chest, her head lolling against my shoulder. My wolf clawed violently inside me, restless, frantic, pounding against the walls of my chest as though he could tear free and fix what I couldn’t.
“Daddy,” she whimpered, voice thin and broken.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I rasped, clutching her tighter. “You’re safe. I promise.”
But even as I spoke the words, my heart felt like it was being split in two.
I pushed through the heavy doors of my chambers, shouting for a maid. “Send for the doctor! Now!”
“Yes, Alpha!”
The room flooded with servan
