Ridah’s POV
Three weeks.
That’s how long it took for the silence to stop feeling wrong.
Kael was gone. No threats, no border skirmishes, no dead wolves left on posts. The eastern packs had sent formal allegiance to Forsaken, and the patrols were boring again—just the usual trespassers and lost hikers.
Boring was good.
I should’ve been sleeping better.
I wasn’t.
The den was quiet at 2 AM, Forsaken’s breathing steady beside me, his arm heavy across my waist. The bond between us was calm, warm, but my own head wouldn’t shut up.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kael’s hands on my throat. Heard myself telling him to stop.
I’d won.
So why did it still feel like I’d barely gotten out?
I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. The floor was cold under my feet.
