Aria didn’t walk, she ran.

Long branches lashed at her face, thorns pierced through the soles of her feet as she moved, her body ached, and her breath came in rough ragged gasps. She couldn’t stop, she wouldn’t.

Not when her instincts kept telling her that Lucien was about to die.

She didn’t even remember when she rushed out of the grotto. Her cloak was already torn into shreds, her hair was tangled, but she didn’t stop.

Absolutely nothing could stop her. She couldn't care ...