Esther’s POV
The hall outside Nicholas’s office smelled of cedar and iron, the scent of him. Even after six years, it still crawled under my skin. I kept telling myself I wasn’t here to plead or to crawl. I was here for Carl.
I paused before the huge carved doors, palms sweating despite the cold. Inside, the Alpha King would be hunched behind his desk, probably reading reports with the same grim focus he used to break me down. He’d be expecting weakness.
I tried to summon Sharon inside me, but only a faint stirring answered. It was a sigh, not a roar.
I pressed my lips together. This isn’t about you, Esther. This is about him.
Carl’s pale face swam before my eyes: the fevers, the tremors, the way his fingers clenched the sheets when another surge hit. He was slipping away. Dr. Reynol
