The morning after the fire was quiet.
Too quiet.
Crescent Vale slept uneasy beneath the fading moon, smoke still drifting through the air like ghosts that refused to leave. The packhouse was gone…nothing but glowing coals and ashes. Only the stone foundation remained, blackened by fire.
I stood there long after everyone else had left, watching the embers flicker and die. The air smelled of burnt wood and blood, thick and heavy, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Not yet.
Jax found me there. I didn’t hear him coming, but I felt him. His familiar warmth wrapping around me before he even touched me.
“You’ve been standing here for hours.” He said softly. His voice carried that low, tired rasp that meant he hadn’t slept either.
“I know.” I said, my eyes still fixed on the ruins. “It doe
