Chapter Twelve: Beautiful Lies and Gentle Prisons
Lena didn’t sleep that night.
Not because she was haunted.
But because she was awake.
Fully, utterly, irrevocably awake in a way she hadn’t been in years. Maybe ever.
She stood on the balcony in one of Nikolai’s shirts—white, soft, too large—and let the breeze curl around her like a second skin. The sea was a black expanse, murmuring secrets she couldn’t quite catch. The moon hung low, a silver coin in a violet sky.
Behind her, the villa was silent.
But she knew he was awake.
He always was when she was restless.
**
She wandered down the hallway barefoot.
The lights were dim, the marble cool beneath her steps. She passed the library, the mirrored room, the empty dining room still set with silver from dinner they’d skipped.
She fo
