The ruins smelled of blood and ash.
Isabella felt it before she saw him.
The bond raw, feral, unfiltered tore through her chest like a scream with no sound. Her breath hitched mid-step, hand flying instinctively to her stomach as if shielding the life inside her from the wave of pain that wasn't hers… but was.
"Damian," she whispered.
The Iron Crown guards fanned out instinctively, weapons raised, but Isabella was already moving. She ran.
Her boots slipped on broken stone, her cloak snagged on twisted metal, but she didn't slow. The world narrowed until there was only the ruined courtyard ahead shattered columns, scorched walls, and at the center of it all.
Him.
Damian lay sprawled against the remnants of a collapsed pillar, blood soaking through his shirt, one arm twisted unnaturally at his side. His face was pale beneath the grime, lips split, eyes fluttering but unfocused.
"No," Isabella breathed, dropping to her knees beside him.
