Lyra POV

It was the cruelest irony imaginable. I had walked into hell to drag the man I loved back into the light, only for him to wake and see me as the monster. Kael’s hand closed around my throat, heavy and deliberate, his thumb pressing into the frantic flutter of my pulse. His grip wasn’t panicked or confused. It was precise, assessing, as though I were a weapon he hadn’t decided whether to break or turn against its maker.

His golden eyes, once molten with devotion, were empty voids ...