Amelia didn’t sleep again. Not really.
She paced the floor, her bare feet cold against the stone, every nerve lit like a fuse. The night air slipped through the cracks in the old walls, brushing her skin with icy fingers, but it wasn’t what made her shiver. That had been Cain—his scent still clinging to her like smoke, his kiss bruised into her lips like a brand.
She tasted blood and regret.
The moon had dipped lower by the time she finally moved. She didn’t dress. She didn’t shift. She ran—out of the den, into the trees, the mist swallowing her whole. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay. Not with the walls whispering his name back at her.
Cain.
The forest welcomed her like a living thing. Branches curled overhead. Roots parted beneath her feet. And still,
