The safehouse lay in a heavy silence that felt almost tangible. Rain still dripped from the leaky roof, its steady patter punctuating Amelia’s racing thoughts. The events of the last few hours—Dominic’s seething departure, Lucian’s ghostly return, and the bitter echo of old promises—reverberated in every corner of the room. She sat on the edge of the threadbare couch, staring blankly at the faded wallpaper as if searching for an answer hidden in its peeling patterns.
Dominic had stormed out in a fury that left the door slamming behind him, leaving her alone with the man who once haunted her dreams—Lucian. His presence still burned in her memory: the way his eyes had held both mischief and menace, the sound of his voice promising both salvation and damnation. And now, here he was, standing
