Kieran's POV
I stared at her.
Lorraine.
Covered in dirt and blood, daggers still clutched in both hands, chest heaving, eyes wild with adrenaline and terror, and yet still burning with that stubborn fire I could recognize anywhere. She looked like she'd been carved into existence just to defy the world.
My heart wasn't supposed to be reacting like this.
It hammered against my ribs so hard it almost hurt. My pulse was loud, thundering in my ears louder than the crackle of the dying flames or the whimpers of the wounded soldiers at my feet.
I had promised myself, I swore that I wouldn't think about her.
I didn't have the luxury of attachments.
Not when my father might still be out there somewhere, imprisoned, tortured.… alive.
But the moment her scent hit me, fierce and filled with desperation, every vow vanished.
