Lana’s POV
Vienna carried his echo.
Every street I walked, every windowpane that caught my reflection, every cuff of rain against the glass brought back the way Artemis had stood in front of the atelier—soaked, unblinking, telling me he’d come for me. It should’ve meant nothing by now. I’d buried us a dozen times over. But his sudden appearance split the ground beneath my feet and left a pulse of heat and fury where calm used to be.
I refused to drown in it.
I needed something solid, something living and here. I needed a future I could hold with both hands and, if I was honest, I wanted it loud enough to drown him out. I wanted a child. I wanted the anchor.
Julian came in late, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the clean lines of his shirt softened by the hour and the rain. He shut the
