Chapter 315

• Lucien’s POV
• I had thought my soul had already rotted, buried alongside Riley beneath the earth. For days—weeks, perhaps—I had become little more than a hollow shell. My wolf prowled in the darkness of my chest, restless, but even he could not rouse me from the fog of grief.
• The embroidery she had once touched lay in my hands, soft silk threads beneath my calloused fingers. I clung to it like a dying man to air, because it was all I had left of her. Nothing else mattered. Not Stormridge, not the throne, not even my own survival.