JAYDEN

The forest tore past me in a blur of mud, branches, and shadow. My lungs burned, but I didn’t slow. Couldn’t. Every heartbeat was a drum of panic, every breath a curse.

“Catriona!” I bellowed, my voice splitting the night, scattering birds from the trees. “Abriel!”

No answer. Just the rustle of leaves, the hollow echo of my own desperation.

I ripped through underbrush, flipped stones, kicked logs aside like they might be hiding beneath. Every scent I caught on the wind drove me mad—mud, damp bark, blood. None of it hers. None of it is my son’s.

The old man’s voice teased the edges of my skull: You’ll...