The storm outside had begun to ease, but inside, tension continued to brew quiet and suffocating. Aria sat in her dark crimson chair, the dim light of the chandelier glinting off the ruby brooch pinned to her dress. The patterns of her long, gloved fingers moved slowly across the rim of her wine glass, tracing the edge as if lost in deep thought.
Valcov entered, his heavy boots echoing through the marble floors. He had come from overseeing the withdrawal of their remaining men from the pier. His sharp, wolf-like eyes glimmered with curiosity as they fixed on Aria.
“I don't really understand you, you let him take the child,” Valcov said, his tone edged with disbelief. “After all that effort, after all the blood we spilled, you just let Damien walk away with her.”
Aria didn’t move. Her ex
