Elira hadn’t slept in three days.
Not from fear. Not from adrenaline. But from something deeper—something unfamiliar.
Peace.
Amari slept curled beside her, breathing steady, safe.
The city outside moved like it always did, but her world had shifted on its axis. Isla was gone. No shadows whispering her name. No scent of blood under silk.
Only the boy with Soren’s eyes.
Only the silence between two people who hadn’t said what needed to be said.
Elira stared at the ceiling, Amari’s tiny hand gripping her shirt.
And wondered—was this the calm before the storm?
Or the part where she finally began to live again?
Soren didn’t call.
Not the next morning. Not the day after.
He sent security.
He wired protection.
But his presence? Nowhere.
Elira wasn’t surprised.
Men like Soren didn’
