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Nothing. My pulse spikes, hunger sharpening into something more dangerous. I move further into the room, scanning every corner, every shadow.

“She must be in the bathroom,” Eagan says, nodding toward the closed door at the far end of the suite.

I cross the room in two strides and rip it open without warning, hinges groaning at the force. The space beyond is empty.

The world tilts beneath my feet, reality reshaping itself with brutal clarity. My stomach drops, something cold and vicious settling there like a stone.

“That wasn’t a servant,” I mutter, the truth locking into place. The hunger in my gut twists, clawing higher, reaching for my heart, my lungs, my throat. “That was her.”

Eagan turns sharply, already moving toward the door. “Eagan . . . Find her!” I roar. The sound shakes the walls and rattles the glasses on the sideboard until they tip and shatter. “Find her now!”

He’s gone before the echo fades, disappearing down the corridor with vampiric speed. I pace, hands curling into fists, then slam one into the wardrobe. Wood explodes under the impact, splintering as my hand punches clean through the door.

She ran. She defied me. After everything I’ve done, sparing her life, offering to find her sister, she chose to run back into a world that would devour her without hesitation.

The thought of her captured by Xavian’s men, by any of them, ignites something primal and violent in my chest. Something possessive. Territorial.

Mine. She is mine.

I yank my fist from the ruined wardrobe, splinters embedded in my knuckles, blood welling up before healing instantly. The power of her blood is still lingering in my system. How long before it fades? How long before hunger consumes me completely?

I drag a hand down my face, forcing my thoughts into order. She’s smart. Resourceful. She got off this ship in broad daylight, knowing I couldn’t follow.

The answer comes quickly, obvious and infuriating: her sister. The entire reason she robbed me in the first place.

My jaw tightens at the thought. Foolish, desperate girl. Running straight into the jaws of monsters to save someone who’s likely already dead.

She defied me, but I know exactly where she went. The auctions. That cesspit of humanity where the powerful buy flesh like cattle. The most dangerous place on King Xavian’s island for someone like her, someone with magic running through her veins.

Demons absorb life essence through fear, lust, and grief, but Xavian is in empath. If he senses her power, if he can feel her energy, she won’t be able to hide what she is. She walked right into it, alone and unprotected. The thought sends a fresh wave of fury through me, sharper than the hunger that still claws at my insides.

No human with sense ventures into the markets willingly, let alone a woman. The markets here are a playground for the worst of my kind. Nobles drunk on power, looking for new playthings to break. Guards who see women as currency and entertainment. Lycans who’ve paid good coin for the privilege of selecting prime flesh without the king’s interference.

For what? A sister who’s likely been sold beyond her reach? The sheer stupidity of it makes me want to tear the walls down.

I pull a long coat from the ruined wardrobe, wood splinters catching on the heavy fabric as I yank it free. The garment is thick enough to offer some protection, but nowhere near what I’d need for extended exposure. It will have to do. I shrug it on, yanking the hood low over my face, shadows falling across my eyes. A poor shield against the sun’s rays, but I’ve survived with less . . .

I storm out and up the stairs, the hunger a living thing inside me now, urging me faster, harder, and closer to her. I only stop when the sunlight spills across the deck again, a barrier more effective than any wall. My hand brushes the edge of it, testing.

My skin sizzles. Pain flares white-hot where sunlight meets flesh, an instant reminder of what I am—what I’ve been cursed with. A creature of darkness, of shadow, of blood. I snarl, teeth bared, fury overriding instinct. I pull the hood tighter and step into the light, into the day that has been my enemy for years. Because she is out there, and nothing—not the sun, the guards, or even my own nature—will stop me from finding her.

My men freeze on the deck, eyes widening as they realize what they’re witnessing. One steps forward with an outstretched hand, as if to physically push me back into safety.

“My king . . .”

I don’t pause. Don’t hesitate. I leap.

The pier cracks beneath the impact of my landing, wood groaning as my weight hits it thirty feet below. Pain flares across my hands, skin blistering where the sun bites through my gloves. My hood slips just enough to scorch my cheek, and I hiss, tugging it back into place. I should be weakening with each passing second, but I’m not, and I don’t have time to dwell on it. Rage carries me forward at inhuman speed.

Behind me, Eagan is shouting, ordering me back, telling me to stop. Reminding me what happens in direct sunlight. As if I need the reminder.

I don’t care.

She is mine. I will make damn sure she never runs from me again.

Dockworkers scatter as I pass, some dropping to their knees in belated recognition, others simply fleeing. The air reeks of salt, fish, and human sweat. The day’s catch is still being unloaded farther down the pier. I rush through the crowded markets, cutting through alleys that offer some relief from the sun. Once on the main street, I look for any signs about the auction house.

After cutting through two more alleyways, the warehouse looms ahead, massive and ugly. The place sits at the edge of town, iron roller doors already descending with a shriek of metal on metal. The daily auction should be opening, not closing, but the place is sealing its goods inside, which makes my stomach drop.