She needed help.
Not a predator.
--
“Iva.”
Caleb’s voice was low, controlled, but it carried through the small restroom with unmistakable authority.
Inside the cubicle there was a sudden stillness.
For a moment he heard nothing except the frantic pounding of his own heartbeat and the wild growl of Chaos pressing against his restraint.
Then her voice came from the other side of the door.
Small.
Shaken.
“Your Highness…?”
The sound of his name on her lips did absolutely nothing to help his control.
His jaw tightened harder.
“Open the door.”
There was a pause.
He could hear her uneven breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as she shifted.
“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
The apology twisted something unpleasant in his chest.
“Open the doo
