PARKER
I made my way down to the cellar, my steps slow but steady. Edward's orders were clear: clean the rogue's wounds, keep him alive. But inside, I was burning.
They took our queen. Sweet, bright, kind April.
If it were up to me, I'd tear every rogue apart with my bare hands until I found her.
The heavy wooden door groaned as I opened it. A rush of damp air and iron greeted me—blood, old stone, and something warmer underneath. Woodsmoke... spice.
I stepped inside and stopped.
The scent—it hit me like a blow to the chest.
No. No, this can't be.
My vision blurred with sudden tears, and my legs refused to move forward. Then he looked up. Blond hair, bruised face streaked with blood, eyes locking straight onto mine like they knew me. I froze.
"My beloved," he breathed, voice rough
