CHAPTER THIRTY
The sun begins to dip below the horizon as I stand in front of the cabin nestled within Alpha Finnic's territory. Rough logs, weathered from time and elements, make up the walls, while moss decorates the roof like a green crown. The door creaks open, its sound a lonely echo in the vast silence of the forest clearing.
"Make yourself at home, Skye," one of Finnic's enforcers says, his voice gruff yet not unkind. He nods toward the inside, where shadows play along the interior wooden surfaces.
"Thank you." My words are soft, barely traveling past my lips. As he leaves, I step inside, the scent of earth and wood enveloping me.
I miss Ford. The thought comes unbidden, sharp and painful. His strength, his playful smirk, the way his green eyes soften whenever they land on me. E
