ONE MINUTE, the mate bond is humming bright and warm in my chest, content as I wait for the vendor to pour wine into two wooden cups.
Next, it goes cold.
Not distant. Not muted. Cold. Like someone has ripped the fire from my chest and left nothing but ash.
The cups slip from my hands. Wine splashes across the cobblestones, dark as blood, but I’m already moving. My wolf explodes inside my head, frantic, howling with desperate fury.
Selene!
I don’t shout her name. Can’t afford to cause a scene, can’t let my panic show. But my feet carry me faster, weaving through the crowd with barely controlled urgency. The mate bond weakens with every heartbeat. Flickering. Fading like a candle being swallowed by the ocean.
I reach the spot where I last saw her, leaning against a wall. Empty. My eyes
