CYPRUS’ POV:
.
.
The grand hall loomed around me, its towering stone walls and flickering torchlight doing little to smother the storm raging within my chest. The scent of burning embers filled the air, but it was not the fire that burned me—it was the failure.
Days had passed since Cassandra had been taken. Stolen from the wedding. Ripped from me.
By those werewolves.
The mere thought sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through me. I had searched for her myself, hunting relentlessly through the ruins they left behind, tracking any whisper of her presence—only to come up empty-handed. And now, I was forced to stand here, waiting, while she remained in the hands of another.
She must have been terrified, her heart pounding in fear. She must have fought, desperate and helpless… and I wa
