EMMA
I don’t remember getting back into the car.
One second I’m standing in the snow, lungs burning, heart trying to tear its way out of my chest, Damien on the ground, wolves frozen, Gabriel bleeding and glowing and looking at me like I’ve just rewritten the laws of his world and the next, I’m shaking behind the steering wheel, doors locked, windows fogged, my forehead pressed to the glass as if it might keep the universe out.
My hands won’t stop trembling.
Neither will the ache.
It’s not pain exactly. It’s… pull. A low, relentless tug deep in my ribs, like something has been anchored inside me and is being stretched thin by distance and fear.
The bond, my mind supplies bitterly.
I hate that I know the word now.
Outside, voices blur together. I hear Gabriel—low, commanding, sharp
