Olivia’s POV
The decision to leave came faster than I thought it would.
At dawn, Lucas called the inner circle together in the war room. The air smelled of smoke and steel, as though the room itself already sensed what we were about to commit to.
Marcus stood at the far end of the table, his arms folded, jaw set. Ava perched on the edge of a chair, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the wood. And I sat beside Lucas, the letter with its faded ink resting between us like a fragile heart.
“We ride north,” Lucas said. No hesitation, no room for argument. His voice was iron.
Marcus’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to him. “How far?”
“Far enough to find the name she deserves,” Lucas replied. His hand brushed mine under the table, steady and firm. “We know her mother came from bey
