Ytrisia's brows twitched, a delicate frown marring her sleepy features. Her hand searched again, dragging slower this time. Her pale fingers crept across the sheets like she had merely missed his broad frame by a fraction of an inch.
Still… empty air.
Her eyelids fluttered open, eyelashes damp with the ghost of tears.
Morning light spilled into the bedroom in soft, hazy shafts through the parted curtains. It was the golden, honeyed kind of dawn that was supposed to feel warm, safe, and tender.
Instead, her chest tightened the second she took in the vacant space on the mattress beside her.
Cruxius… was gone.
The white sheets on his side were already cooling against her skin. No dent in the pillow. No tangled rumple of blankets. No trace of the strong, tattooed arms that had anchored her through her trembling, breaking gasps just hours ago.
It looked as though he had never been there at all.
No.
No. No.
