Gavin
I hadn’t slept.
The sun was rising—light filtering through the small, square windows of my cabin—but all I could do was pace.
Back and forth.
Hands clenching, unclenching.
The living room was silent except for the creak of old floorboards and the low growl of frustration vibrating in my chest.
Daphne.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Wide green eyes, lips parted in surprise, fingers brushing mine as we danced under the soft glow of lantern light. And then—her father’s voice. Sharp, full of disdain. The grip on her arm. The look she gave me before she was pulled away.
Mate.
And just like that, she was gone.
I ran a hand down my face, trying to force my thoughts into order. I had to fix this. I couldn’t just sit here hoping she’d come back. I had to do something.
And
