Lyra’s POV
I should’ve known peace wasn’t real.
Not here.
Not in this house that smelled like fear and aftershave. Not in a bed built for kings and criminals. Not wrapped up in sheets that felt too good to be anything but a bribe.
I was still in Leo’s shirt when it happened: hair a mess, thighs still sore, mascara smudged just enough to look like I meant it.
The fire was low. My coffee was cold. The quiet was that sharp kind, the kind that only exists right before something f*****g explodes.
“Lyra.”
I froze.
That voice.
That f*****g voice.
It came from behind me: casual, like he belonged here. Like this was just another Tuesday and he hadn’t detonated my life three chapters ago.
I turned slowly.
And there he was.
Adrian.
Calm. Cold. Perfectly dressed, like he’d just come from
