CIARA'S POV
I knew my way around Silvercrest.
I knew it the way a body knows old scars that itch before rain, the way a hunter remembers where prey hides. I hadn't walked these halls in this lifetime, not since the bond marked me again, but my flesh remembered. My bones whispered directions my mind hadn't yet learned.
The estate guided me upward, to him. To the weak link.
He stood at the ledge, cigarette smoke coiling around him like a familiar spirit. Ewan's shoulders hunched slightly against the wind, his silhouette sharp against the dusk sky. He didn't hear me approach. Perfect.
I watched him. Studied how his fingers trembled slightly when he brought the cigarette to his lips. How his eyes followed the horizon with such longing—as if freedom lay just beyond his reach. As if he were
