Eira's pov
I shouldn't have gone to him.
I told myself that a dozen times as I stormed through the corridors, heart racing, fists clenched. The compound felt smaller tonight, like the walls were folding inward. Even the lights seemed dimmer, shadows thicker. Like the whole world was bracing for something explosive.
But it wasn't the war outside that had me unraveling.
It was the one behind my ribs.
It was Draven's voice echoing in my skull. His words,"You're mine",still tasted like iron and lightning.
It was the way he'd looked at me, like he wanted to burn the world down just to keep me from walking away.
I hated that it moved me.
I hated that it made me want him.
By the time I reached the war room, I didn't knock. I didn't pause.
I just shoved the door open and stepped into the fire.
He was alone. Of course he was. Draven didn't need an audience to break.
He looked up from the table, eyes dark and hollow and raw. Like a man caught between instinct and destruction.
