Chapter 18

Draven’s POV

I couldn’t sit still. Ryker raged inside me, desperate to break free and claim our mate, but then was the worst possible moment. A heavy, dark pain coiled around my chest, growing sharper with each breath. Frustrated, I shattered everything within reach—books, scrolls, pens—sending papers fluttering to the floor.

My mind reeled. I clutched at my hair, fingernails digging in as the seconds of the last frantic hours replayed on a loop behind my eyelids. Every heartbeat pounded with the same unbearable ache. Maeve was in serious trouble, and I was powerless to help.

Why on earth did it have to be her? That question tormented me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t believe her—I believed every word she spoke. But the court wouldn’t. They saw only the worst in Maeve Verrin—Lucius’s daughter—a girl born under suspicion. Those clear, broken eyes of hers held nothing but fear and sorrow, not malice. She couldn’t murder someone, especially me. I knew her hea