POV: Riley
The healers said I should rest.
They didn’t understand.
How could I rest when the air itself still smelled like blood and smoke?
I hadn’t let go of Damieon since the attack. Not once. He slept against my chest, small fingers curled into my gown like he already knew the world was trying to take him from me.
Alex stood near the window, arms folded, eyes sharp, watching the dark horizon as if daring it to move again.
“They’ll come back,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I whispered.
Silence pressed between us—thick, heavy, waiting.
Then Damieon stirred.
A soft whimper left his lips.
“Shh, my love,” I murmured, brushing my fingers over his cheek. “Mama’s here.”
That’s when I felt it.
A sudden cold pulse beneath my palm.
Not from his skin.
From inside him.
My breath hitche
