ADAM
It had been four days since I last saw my mate.
Four days since Sage's presence had filled my senses—her scent, her warmth, her sharp, stubborn energy that always felt like a storm wrapped in silk.
Four days of restraint that felt like torture.
Every hour stretched thin. Every night carved another layer of impatience into my bones. I missed her.
Not in the casual, distant way people missed acquaintances—but in the raw, animal way a bonded soul ached when the other was out of reach.
I wanted her near. Wanted to see her breathing. Wanted to touch her and confirm she was alive, whole, still here.
And the thought that she was trapped—hurt—bleeding somewhere inside the queen's walls made my chest burn.
Every instinct in me screamed to storm the palace. To tear through gates. To break through guards. To carve my way to her if I had to.
I could already picture it. I would burn the castle to the ground if that was what it took.
But Darius had stopped me. Again. And again.
