37. Was wrong.
Final.
Katarina.
A loud crash makes me open my eyes.
It's not dawn yet, but soon it will start to get light. The window is open, giving me a huge view of the gently rolling waves and the sun very minimally peeking in the distance. It's after four in the morning and Killian is no longer in bed.
I frown, touching his side to find him cold, which means I've been alone for quite some time.
Another loud rumble is heard.
I reach for his shirt and pull it across my body, then peek out the window to see. There, my eyebrows rise in surprise at what I find. Killian is chopping wood, the axe clutched between his two hands to launch a furious swing. He does it with rage, with anger, as if he is venting his discomfort on that poor wood.
He must sense my gaze, because he lifts
