The night at the estate stretched into uneasy silence. The hallways were hushed, but it wasn’t peace, it was the kind of silence that pressed on the ears, weighted with secrets and exhaustion. Amara lingered in Luke’s room until his breathing deepened, the steady rhythm of a man who was finally allowing his body to rest.
When she slipped out, Damien was waiting outside the door. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, faint smudges of blood and dirt still clinging to him from the mission. His sharp gaze softened only slightly when it fell on her.
“How is he?” Damien asked, his voice low.
“Stable,” Amara replied. “Sleeping now. He needs time.”
Damien exhaled through his nose, a sound that was equal parts relief and frustration. “Time is the one thing Valcov doesn’t gi
