He didn't hear her. Or worse, he didn't care.
Maddison's breath hitched. She pressed in closer, desperation creeping in, until her body was flush against his. Her chest pressed against him, seeking that familiar pull, that instinctive tether of the mate bond. If words couldn't reach him, then maybe this would, maybe the contact would drag him back before he went too far.
"Nathan…" Maddison's voice softened into a fragile, coaxing murmur, trembling just enough to slip past the edges of his rage.
For a brief second, it worked.
The storm inside him faltered, his anger easing, if only slightly, like a tide pulling back. But it wasn't enough. The moment cracked, and just as quickly, it surged back and became tighter, harsher.
His chest constricted, something raw and violent twisting beneath his ribs. He couldn't accept it, couldn't make sense of it. Ashley… dead? From a fall? It didn't add up. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
This wasn't the plan.
