Thoren
I didn’t stop walking.
Not when the doors slammed shut behind me.
Not when the guards flinched at my pace.
Not even when the corridors of my own castle seemed too narrow to hold everything burning inside my chest.
She had no f*****g clue.
Nevara.
That name still tasted like home and ash at once.
She sat there—fuming, accusing, beautiful in ways she didn’t even realize—and she asked about my mate.
My mate.
You were mine, Nevara.
You are mine.
Like I could’ve ever moved on.
Like I hadn’t spent four years reliving the moment I sent her away, over and over, wondering if she hated me enough to stay alive out of spite.
Every part of me wanted to turn around.
Grab her.
Kiss the fury off her mouth and shake her until she understood. Until she believed me when I said I didn’t
