ADAM
I was still frozen when Noah's words landed. The room seemed to still tilt, reality folding in on itself as if the truth I had just uncovered had loosened the seams of the world.
My chest was tight, my thoughts colliding, overlapping, refusing to settle. Sage was my Maya. Maya was Dora.
My wolf paced restlessly inside me, a low, savage satisfaction rolling through him like thunder. I told you.
I barely heard him.
She was here.
After all the blood, the years, the searches, the ghosts—I had my mate back.
The realization hit me all over again, sharp and blinding. Maya.
The innocent girl I had tainted with experiences she hadn't known how to name, had become Dora—who had looked at me like I was the embodiment of everything she despised—and finally had become Sage.
Sage, who met my authority with sarcasm and fire, who had bent the laws of magic like they were suggestions.
