|| Lilac’s POV ||

The moment I heard the news of Alaric's return, my teacup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. The sound echoed through the suddenly silent kitchen.

He's back.

I was out of the door before the porcelain shards stopped spinning, my bare feet slapping against cold wood as I sprinted toward the packhouse. The evening air burned my lungs, but I didn't slow - couldn't slow. Not when every second apart had been its own special kind ...