EMMA
I don’t remember deciding to stop.
One moment I’m walking—boots crunching against frost, Gabriel’s presence a steady heat at my back, the estate alive with tension—and the next my feet simply… refuse. Like my body reaches a conclusion my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
I slow.
Then I stop.
The night presses in around me, sharp with pine and cold metal and something darker I still don’t have a name for. The horn’s echo has faded, but its warning lingers in my bones, vibrating like an aftershock.
Gabriel notices immediately.
He always does.
“Emma?” he says quietly, turning. Not commanding. Not Alpha. Just him.
I can’t look at him.
If I do, I’ll shatter. Or worse—I’ll step back into his arms and forget why I ever ran.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
The word feels pathetic the moment it
