The estate had never felt so divided, half cloaked in silence, half consumed with restless movement. Inside Damien’s room, the world slowed to a fragile rhythm of shallow breaths, whispered reassurances, and the sound of water being wrung from cloths. Beyond those walls, the corridors echoed with orders, hurried footsteps, and the clatter of weapons being prepared for another day of search.
Amara had tethered herself to Damien’s bedside since the moment he first opened his eyes. Her exhaustion was heavy in her body, but she refused to yield. There was no universe where she would allow him to wake alone, not while he hovered on the knife-edge between recovery and collapse.
Every morning she began the same way, checking his fever, dabbing the sweat from his skin, adjusting his pillows with
