Morning came quietly, the way danger often did—without warning, without noise.
Seraphina woke before the light filtered through the curtains, her body already tense, as if it had learned that peace was temporary. Lucien lay beside her, his breathing controlled, shallow enough to tell her he wasn’t truly asleep. He never fully was. Not when things were moving against him.
She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and stared at the ceiling.
The night before had changed something.
Not between them emotionally—that shift had happened long ago—but in the structure of their world. The lines had been drawn. Enemies had stopped whispering and started acting.
She slipped out of bed and crossed the room barefoot, wrapping a robe around herself. The city below looked deceptively normal. Car
