Damian POV:
"Want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Then let me guess," he said, folding his arms. "You’re tired of being paraded like a bDamianing bull. You hate crowds. Hate expectations. You hate politics. And you hate that your father is throwing a festival instead of dealing with something more serious you clearly want to talk about."
My eye twitched.
Rowan grinned without humor. "Thought so."
I didn’t say it out loud, but he wasn’t wrong.
He just didn’t know how right he was.
Because the thing clawing at my chest, the pressure building in my skull, the reason I could barely stand still — it wasn’t just about duty. Or tradition. Or she-wolf politics.
It was her.
The girl I couldn’t name. The bond I couldn’t explain. The one no one else knew existed.
She was out there. In danger. Al
