Aiden
I could barely breathe the moment I saw the headline on my private alert: “Blood Lord Kendrick hosts birthday celebration for his mate Kimberly at Crescent Moon Manor.” I read it once. Then twice. My hands shook as the screen blurred from the sudden rage pulsing through me.
Kimberly.
She was with Kendrick.
The memory of returning to that empty cottage, expecting to find her waiting—only to discover she’d vanished—still clawed at my soul. I had searched every corner of Philadelphia, called every contact, bribed and threatened anyone who might have seen her. And every time, the trail ran cold.
I shouldn’t have left her. That mistake would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I stared at the news article again. Kimberly’s face was radiant in the photo, her smile delicate and distant
