Elin’s POV

“Elin, get in.” We shoved through the reporters’ encirclement, Grayson holding the passenger door open, his green eyes like pine groves—steady with concern, edged with fatigue. “Don’t be afraid—I’ll take you.”

Take me? Where to? Villa? Hospital? Or… freedom? Istha rumbled low inside, scenting his aura—that crisp pine tang, easing her to a contented hum. But my heart still bled. Aaron, why no show? Your care—another lie? Now, probably weeping for Clara? ...