Aurora’s P.O.V

I watched as Mary broke down again, her sobs wrenching through the walls of the room like a storm that wouldn’t pass. Her mate—tall, steady, but visibly shaking inside—was trying to hold her, whispering soft reassurances that barely held any ground beneath the weight of her anguish.

Her fingers clutched at his shirt as if she’d drown without the anchor of his presence, and even then, she was already slipping. I stood there for a few long seconds, heart ...