SLIPPINGKAEL POVKAEL POVThe wallet is in her hands.The same wallet that still carries the faint, impossible scent of Wren and the photograph of the soft-faced woman holding our newborn daughter. The sight of Freya's fingers on it detonates something primitive and absolute inside my chest.I cross the room in three strides and tear the wallet from her grip. The leather is warm from her palm. Still warm. Like it has been sitting against her skin for minutes. Minutes while she held Wren's photograph. Minutes while she studied the proof of my daughter.Rage—pure, possessive, mate-driven—surges so hard my vision edges red. The kind of red that makes men bleed. The kind of red that ends marriages and burns down empires.My hand snaps up and locks around Freya's jaw, fingers digging into the soft skin hard enough to leave marks that will not fade for days. Hard enough that she will wake up tomorrow and see the imprint of my rage every time she looks in a mirror."How many times," I snarl
최신 업데이트 : 2026-10-18 더 보기