Tyla’s POV
Arthur didn’t let me go for a long time after Selena was dragged out.
His arms stayed firmly around me, chest rising and falling against my cheek, as though making sure I was truly there, alive, breathing, still his. His heart was beating too fast for a man as powerful and composed as he usually was. It told me more than his words ever could:
He had been terrified.
And somehow, that broke me more than Selena’s threats.
I clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady my own breathing. His scent filled my lungs—pine, smoke, something warm and wild underneath. I soaked in it like it could shield me from everything.
“Are you hurt?” he murmured quietly against my hair. His voice was still rough, still dangerous, like he was on the edge of snapping.
“No,” I whispered. “Jus
