The pale light of dawn filtered through the cracked walls of the watchtower, casting jagged shadows over the worn stone. Taryn stirred, her body heavy with exhaustion and the lingering burn of venom. She blinked blearily, her head resting against Lucien's chest, the faint rhythm of his heartbeat the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence.
The night's events came rushing back—the deathhounds, the venom, and, worst of all, Rhydian's words slicing through her like a blade. If you'd been stronger…
Her jaw clenched. She had spent years convincing herself her family was gone, that she had survived and there was no one left to fight for. Now, that foundation had crumbled, leaving her with more questions than answers.
"You're awake." Lucien's voice was low, roughened by fatigue, but his silver eyes were sharp as they met hers. He sat upright against the wall, his arms still loosely wrapped around her. "How do you feel?"
