IVAN'S POV
Maeve was pacing in her cell, but there was a particular helplessness framing her form—panic set deep in her eyes.
It was only when our gazes met that they shifted, just for a second, giving way to one emotion that kissed breath back into my lungs—hope.
However, I didn't have the luxury to savor it. My eyes traced her form: covered in bruises, skin smeared with blood, hair frazzled.
None of it stole from her beauty, but goddess, it broke me all the same and lit fresh rage into my veins.
Who did this to her? Who hurt her?
A growl ripped out of me so loud the walls shook.
The guard posted at Maeve's cell barely had time to lift his head before I was on him.
My hand closed around his throat and, with one furious swing, I flung him across the corridor like he weighed nothing.
