Not after the chaos that’s torn through my chest for the last three fucking hours.

Three. Hours. That’s how long it took to find them. That’s how long I’ve been barely holding it together, running on adrenaline and desperation, carving my way through the night all the way to dawn like a wild animal ready to be let loose.

Every second spent tracking Lila’s location, replaying the security footage, rerouting through back roads, coordinating my men like a damn war general— was a second that peeled another layer off my sanity. The fury burned, sure, hell, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t still burning, but it was the fear that nearly broke me.

The not knowing if Julian had laid a finger on them.

The helplessness of not being there to protect them when Lila was going out of her mind, trying to make Lina better.

And now?

Now that I’ve got them in my arms, warm, breathing, sobbing, and real? I can finally breathe.

Her scent wraps around me, like lavender and rain. Her damp hair brushes my cheek, and Lina’s heartbeat flutters against my chest. I bury my face in Lila’s curls like I’m begging my wolf to believe it.

They’re here.

They’re alive.

And they’re safe.

The forest swells around us, the wind whistling through the pines like a war cry. The birds are starting to stir, calling to each other in high, bright tones. The sky behind the treetops lightens by the minute, the edge of dawn slicing through the black.

But none of that matters.

All I hear are my girls.

Lina sobbing into her mother’s neck.

Lila’s trembling breaths against my chest.

And beneath it all, the goddamn voice that makes my blood boil.

“Lila,” Julian calls out somewhere from the woods in front of us, like he hasn’t just signed his death sentence. His voice bounces through the trees, scratchy and frantic, the way unhinged men call for the thing they know they’ve lost.

I grit my teeth, my fists clenching around Lila’s waist.

He’s still looking for them. Still out there. Still daring to act like he has a fucking claim on either of them.

“I—I’m sorry.” Lila’s voice is muffled against my chest. “I should…I shouldn’t have gone to see him. I’m so sorry, Alaric.”

She pulls away slightly, her hands resting on my chest, her wide, bloodshot eyes searching mine like she’s afraid I’ll turn away.

All I focus on is reading the tell in her eyes, reading that fear Julian put inside her, focusing on the red bruise that forms on her jaw and trying my damn best not to make her feel bad about whatever she did, because in all honesty, it doesn’t matter.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she whispers, and her feeble voice cuts me more than her tears. “I didn’t know he lied to get me to go see him. I didn’t know he’d…”

“You don’t have to explain,” I say, my voice rough. “Not now.”

But she does anyway.

Her bottom lip trembles. “He said he could save her, and I believed him. I let my fear blind me. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve stayed home. I should have…”

“I’m not angry, wild one.” I lean in, brushing a tear off her cheek with my thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at him. I’m mad that he used your love for Lina to trick you. To trap you. That he dared to think he could take what’s mine.”

Lina stirs against her, and my heart clenches all over again. I slide my hand down and rest it on her small back, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. Too warm. Still too warm.

“She’s burning up,” I murmur, my other hand stroking her cheek softly, “Hi, princess. I’m here, so stop crying, okay?”