Amelia’s POV
I stand near the packhouse, my hands folded loosely, trying to steady the rhythm of my own heartbeat. Our men told us that Elsa went to the cliff. I can only pray that Alex was in time and she did not do what she pretended to do long ago. I hear the soft crunch of leaves under careful, measured steps. My gaze lifts, and I see them: Alex and Elsa, walking side by side, their figures illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, moving slowly but with purpose, as though every step carries the weight of the battles behind them and the battles still to come.
I hold my breath, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding through me. There is no anger in Alex’s eyes now, only a steady intensity, the kind of focus that belongs to someone who knows what is precious and is unwilling to
