CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
Three months later, the backyard smelled of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. Lyra stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, smoothing the simple white dress over her hips. It wasn’t extravagant—just soft fabric that flowed when she moved, with delicate straps and a touch of lace at the neckline. Perfect.
“You look beautiful,” Dimitri said from the doorway. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark pants, and that same intense look in his eyes that still made her stomach flip. The scars from that final night had faded to faint lines, reminders they both carried quietly.
Lyra turned, smiling. “You clean up nice yourself. No blood this time. Progress.”
He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her close, careful not to wrinkle
