(Dominic’s POV)
The scent hit me like a ghost. Blood. Familiar. Fading.
My wolf surged forward through the trees, paws kicking up snow and soil as I chased it—her scent—through the frozen forest. We were close. Too close. And too late.
Ava.
She was sprawled near the river’s edge, half-buried in snow, her blood soaked into the roots of an old pine. One arm outstretched, her fingers stiff and red. Her chest barely rose.
I shifted mid-run, bones cracking and reforming. The cold bit into my skin as I stumbled to her side, heart slamming against my ribs like a war drum.
“Ava,” I whispered, falling to my knees. Her name cracked in my throat.
She didn’t respond. Her lips were pale. Her pulse—there, but faint.
I pressed trembling hands to the wound in her side, trying to slow the bleeding.
