DAXTON

I watched the blood drain from her face. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He stepped out of the shadows like a ghost. He was lean and tall, with hair streaked with silver and piercing grey eyes.

“Papa?” Arya whispered.

Gods.

No.

I shot to my feet, ignoring the sting of the open wounds across my chest, and staggered forward.

“Don't go near her,” I growled, blood dripping from my fingertips. The rage I'd kept caged inside of me snapped, ...