SERAPHINA’S POV
The irony wasn't lost on me: the last island we'd visited had belonged to Catherine.
It had smelled of blood and corruption and evil. It had been the place where friends nearly died, where impossible choices had been forced upon us, where my future and the future of those I loved had balanced on the edge of a knife.
This island couldn't have been more different if the Goddess herself had designed it as an apology.
Here, mornings began not with alarms or urgent knocks on the bedroom door or looming responsibilities, but with sunlight spilling lazily through linen curtains while waves whispered against the shore below the villa.
Kieran and I slept later than either of us ever had back at Nightfang, with nowhere to be except beside each other.
Unhurried by schedules, responsibilities, or the weight of an entire pack depending on us, I’d become the one thing I’d never associated myself with before: idle.
Frankly, I blamed Kieran.
