Freya‘s pov.

The moment my boots hit the grass before Dorian, every instinct in me screamed to turn and run.

Not from fear.

From the bond.

It was still there, thrumming between us like a live wire, dragging at my chest, whispering that I belonged at his side. That no matter the choices I’d made, or the lies between us, my place was with him. But I couldn’t listen. I needed clarity. Cold, sharp, rational thought.

But it had vanished.

Three meters ...