The cabin was silent.
Not the kind of quiet that came from peace, but the kind that settled heavy in the bones, pressing down on every inch of the space.
Taryn hadn't moved.
The fire flickered, its warmth licking at the edges of the room, but it didn't reach her. Nothing did. She sat where Kah'el had left her, the bandages tight around her wrist, the weight of exhaustion pressing into her skin.
She should move.
She should stand. Should do something, anything.
But she couldn't.
Her body was distant, sluggish, like her limbs weren't entirely hers. The phantom ache of Lucien's fangs still burned through her wrist, but it wasn't just the pain that lingered.
It was the echo of what he had done.
You're never going to do that again.
She sucked in a sharp breath, too quick, too shallow. It caught in her throat, rattling against the weight in her chest. The bond was still there, coiled beneath her ribs, no longer suffocating but never truly gone.
And outside, she could hear him.
