The capture of Clara should have felt like a victory.
Instead, it felt like the calm before a hurricane.
Sofia sat on the edge of the bed in the master suite the next morning, watching Julian button his shirt over the healing scar on his chest. The nearly full moon hung low in the sky outside the window, a constant, heavy reminder that time was almost gone.
“You’ve barely slept,” she said softly.
Julian turned to her, his stormy gray eyes softening as they landed on her face. “Neither have you.” He crossed the room and knelt in front of her, large hands gently resting on her thighs. “After what Clara said… Valeria being inside the walls already. I can’t stop thinking about losing you.”
Sofia cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw. The mate bond between them felt
