The fall had no end.
Darkness swallowed them whole, thick and suffocating, but it wasn’t silence—it was screaming. Voices clawed at Elaria’s ears, some begging, some cursing, some crying for a mercy that never came. Her hands clutched at Draven’s chest with a desperation that left her knuckles white, terrified that if she let go for even a heartbeat, the void would rip him from her.
Draven’s arms locked around her, anchoring her even as his own body trembled with the strain. His wolf’s growl reverberated in his chest, low and feral, trying to drown out the endless whispers.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
It was the only thing keeping her sane.
Then, suddenly—impact.
They crashed onto hard stone, the air knocked from their lungs. Elaria’s cheek scraped against rough ground, her body still clinging
