The early morning fog clung low to the forest floor as I took a long run to clear my head. The tension in my chest hadn’t eased since the night I saw Damon and Talia together. I hadn’t seen either of them since. Maybe I didn’t want to. Or maybe I knew I needed to.

I slowed near the edge of the northern field—one of our old sparring spots—and froze when I caught a familiar scent in the air.

Damon.

He was sitting on a fallen log, hood over his head, arms resting on his knees. His eyes flicked up as I approached.

We locked eyes.

Neither of us said...