Ryker saw Nyra and everything stopped.
For years he kept the same story running in his head—Nyra, broken and waiting, the damage between them mirrored in her. The idea helped him manage the distance, gave him some comfort, made it easier to stay away. But when he finally walked back into her world, nothing lined up. The woman in front of him crushed every script he’d been rehearsing, and the shock of it hit harder than any fight he'd ever walked away from.
He expected ruin.
He expected her to be shattered, or at least visibly cracked by their history. But Nyra wasn’t broken. She stood tall and steady in the middle of the room, not because of some title, but because her presence just owned the space. Ryker's chest tightened; he hadn't felt that in years. She wasn't fragile—she was refine
