Elira stared at the ceiling.
The house was asleep—but her body wasn’t.
Something inside her was stirring. Not just the nausea that came in waves now, not just the dull ache behind her eyes.
No—this was instinct.
Survival.
Her fingers moved to her stomach in the dark, and for a moment, her breath hitched.
A child.
A heartbeat.
A warning.
She turned her head toward Damien, who was still asleep beside her, one arm slung protectively around her waist. His touch was warm. Steady.
But steady wasn’t enough anymore.
Down the hall, Delilah’s soft humming echoed like a threat.
And miles away, Soren was already playing his next move.
Damien rose before sunrise. He kissed Elira’s forehead and slipped out of bed, muscles tight with tension.
He knew Soren.
He knew that note wasn’t the end
