Ethan turned before I could look away.
His eyes found mine across the chaos of marked wolves, and for one frozen moment the entire amphitheater disappeared. It was just him and me and the weight of everything that had shattered between us.
He looked different. Death had stripped away the polished confidence he'd worn like armor in the mortal world. His face was gaunt, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. The crescent mark on his wrist glowed angry red against his skin, brighter than anyone else's.
But his expression when he saw me was exactly the same as it had been in his bedroom. In the pack square. In every moment he'd chosen to destroy me.
Relief.
"Haven." He said my name like it was a curse. "Of course you're here."
I couldn't speak. My throat had closed, my lungs forgetting how to pull air. The mark on my wrist burned cold, responding to his proximity or maybe to the rage flooding through me.
