Sekhmet had killed him. Not in rage, but in mourning.
Killing him killed something in her.
A fragment of her soul burned to ashes that day. And no matter how many times she reincarnated, the sting of that betrayal never truly faded. She had trusted him. Loved him. And he’d turned her into a prisoner.
She never let anyone close again.
Never believed love could come without a chain attached.
And standing here now, in the dark forest, surrounded by mates who spoke of fire and love and freedom—she just couldn’t believe it.
I told her to look into their souls.
If there was anything dark in them—anything that could trigger her wrath—I’d help her destroy it. If they had lied, if they wanted power, if they only saw us as weapons or pawns, I’d help her burn them all to ash.
But there was no
