Chapter 151

Draven’s POV

For a second, my body froze completely. I couldn’t silence the frantic pounding of my heart as I lifted Maeve’s cold, limp form in my arms and moved out into the cave’s narrow passage. She was unnaturally stiff, her skin icy to the touch. My wide, terrified eyes fixed on the blood marring the fabric over her stomach. The wound wasn’t deep—why the hell wasn’t she healing?

Gently, I brushed away the rocks littering the floor and laid her down. My large hands cradled her cheeks as I tried every trick I knew to rouse her. With each failed attempt, panic coiled tighter in my chest, and Sköll’s frantic scratching and low growls only amplified my fear. My thoughts scrambled; I couldn’t think straight.

“Maeve, please, come on,” I pleaded, voice shaking. Nothing. And then the dreadful realization: