Ash’s POV
I walked away from the field with my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
Rowan had just grabbed Philis by the collar like the guy weighed nothing, voice low and lethal, telling him to shut his mouth about me.
The whole group scattered like roaches under light, and for one stupid heartbeat I felt something dangerous slide through me, something warm and safe, something that had no right to exist when Rowan Dreager was the one causing it. I hated him.
I was supposed to hate him. He was the son of the man who lit the match that burned my entire world down.
Yet there he stood, shielding me from gossip, from whispers about my bindings, about whatever they thought I was hiding. Why? Why did he care? Why did it feel like a hand closing around
