Emily Rosewood's Point Of View.
The Trial was set for dawn the next day.
I did not sleep.
Instead I stood on the porch wrapped in both their arms, watching the sky pale from ink to pearl. Sebastian’s chin rested on my head, Adrian’s cheek pressed to my temple, and for a few stolen hours the world was only heartbeat and cedar and storm.
“I’m scared,” I admitted into the quiet.
Sebastian’s arms tightened. “Good. Fear keeps you sharp.”
Adrian’s lips brushed my mating mark—the one Sebastian had finally given me on the ridge three weeks ago, mirrored by Adrian’s on the opposite side. “We’ll be right there,” he murmured. “Every second. You fall, we catch you. You bleed, we burn the world down. You win—” His voice cracked just slightly. “You win, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives making
