Ten nights. Ten nights since the world turned to ash. Since her scent vanished from his life and left a hollow, bleeding silence in its place.
Ravenshore slept beneath a storm. The forest whispered, restless, heavy with the kind of tension that clung to fur and bone. Zane hadn’t slept since the night she walked away. Not really. He’d spent those days half-man, half-beast, trapped between guilt and hunger, both gnawing at him from within.
He stood now in the clearing behind the packhouse, barefoot, shirtless, the night wind cutting through his skin like glass. The scars across his shoulders glowed faintly under the moonlight, one of them hers.
Her dagger’s mark. Slowly healing but still there.
A constant, burning reminder of what he’d lost and what he’d deserved to lose.
His knuckles
