I fought.

I kicked, clawed, and thrashed, but it didn’t matter.

Evander’s grip on me was iron, his arms locked around my body with effortless strength as he carried me like I was nothing.

"Let me go!" I snarled, my fists pounding against his bare chest.

His golden-brown ey

I braced myself as the heavy door swung shut behind us, sealing me inside the triplets' bedroom.

Three sets of eyes burned into me—Dorian’s midnight-blue, sharp with challenge. Evander’s golden-brown, calculating and unreadable. Rowan’s hazel, soft yet searing, filled with

The packhouse was too loud.

Too many voices. Too many glances thrown my way.

But none of it mattered.

Because they were watching me.

Dorian. Evander. Rowan.

I felt them from across the dining hall, a weight that pressed into my skin, thickened the air in my lungs.