The silence that followed Talia’s disappearance was almost unbearable.

Aria sat beside Damon, her hand gripping his tightly as he stared into the distance. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion, his jaw clenched in torment. He hadn’t slept in over a day, but Lucien had forced him to eat something earlier—practically shoving food down his throat, reminding him that he couldn’t save anyone if he fell apart.

“I can’t sit here,” Damon muttered hoarsely, trying to rise again.

“You need to rest,” Aria said gently, pulling him back. “You’ve barely regained your strength.”

“My mate is out there, Aria,” he snapped, but immediately looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I just… I...