Amaya stood at the door, her hand gripping the edge of the frame as though it might tether her to reality, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest. The bright noon sun streamed into the house, casting long, harsh shadows, but even the warmth of the day couldn’t melt the icy terror creeping up her spine. She stared at Don Francisco, unable to fully process the sight of him standing before her.
His presence here—on her doorstep—was an impossibility. It was something that should not, could not be real. Yet here he was, the man who haunted her worst nightmares, the man from whom she had tried so desperately to escape. It was when Knight saved her, she had hidden from him, rebuilding her life far away from the place where he had once controlled her, violated her, made her feel less
