Selene’s hands were still trembling as she slipped through the quiet corridors of the packhouse. The echo of Killian’s voice would not leave her ears, a jagged shard lodged deep in her chest.
"You're my mate."
The words kept replaying until they became unbearable. Selene had always feared Freya’s presence, but fear had been a small, controllable thing. Jealousy she could live with, swallow, disguise with charm and poise. But this? Knowing that fate itself had tied Killian to that girl? That made her blood feel poisoned.
She didn’t go to him. That would have been foolish. Confronting him would only expose her desperation. Instead, she turned her pain into movement, into action, letting her fury guide her feet toward the one person who might understand the magnitude of what was at stake..
