Declan’s POV
The city changes at dusk.
Edges soften. Noise drops a register. People start believing the worst of the day is behind them, even when it isn’t. I’ve always trusted this hour the least.
Mara stands on the balcony, arms folded loosely, watching the sky bruise into purple and gold. She hasn’t moved in a while. That’s how I know she’s thinking too hard.
I step out beside her, careful not to crowd. The bond hums—steady, warm, alert. Not warning. Not fear.
Resolve.
“They’ll be back,” she says without looking at me.
“Yes,” I agree.
“Not tonight.”
“No.”
“Soon.”
“Yes.”
She exhales slowly, like she’s letting the word settle into her bones. “I’m not wrong to let them come, am I?”
I turn to face her fully. “No.”
“That wasn’t hesitation,” she says. “Try again.”
I study her—r
