Opal's POV
The drive was silent.
Not the peaceful, comfortable kind of silence—the kind that wraps around two people who know each other so well words aren't always needed.
This was the kind of silence that screamed.
Opal sat in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead, though she wasn't seeing any of it. Her hands were clasped in her lap, fingers digging into her palms until the skin ached. She hadn't spoken since leaving the meeting. Since Brooks had said the words that refused to stop ringing in her ears.
Azeala killed your fated mate before you could meet him.
Her mate. Her other half. Gone before she ever got to know his name. His face. The sound of his laugh. The warmth of his arms.
A stolen future.
But beside her sat Kael—the male she'd chosen. The male who had never once hesitated to love her. Who had sacrificed and bled for her. Who still looked at her like she hung the stars with her bare hands.
She loved him. Desperately. Completely.
