KYLE POV
I thought my chest had already reached its limit in Turin.
That museum… God, it wasn’t just stone and statues, it was her. The way Kat had trembled in front of Hathor’s soft smile and Sekhmet’s fierce glare, the tears that had rolled silently down her cheeks as if centuries of worship had finally circled back to her. She had whispered, ‘this is me’, and every fiber of my body had answered ‘yes.’
I had been proud before—proud of her strength, her stubbornness, her way of loving us even when we didn’t deserve it—but standing behind her in that museum, watching her shake and then steady because Kingsley’s hand anchored her… I’d never been prouder in my life.
And for once, I was proud of him too. Kingsley. My brother with the jagged edges, always half-tempting fate with his contro
