The night air was cool and still as Luke and Miranda sat by the fire, the soft crackling of the flames filling the quiet around them. The scent of pine and earth was heavy in the air, mixing with the occasional howl of wolves in the distance. Luke stared into the fire, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. Miranda sat across from him, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watched him.
It had been a long day, and tension hung between them. After everything that had happened—after Lucia’s return, the confrontation with Nicholo, and the weight of the brewing conflict—it felt like the entire world was teetering on the edge. Miranda could see the worry etched into Luke’s face, even though he tried to mask it with calm.
Luke sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Do you think Lucia will be ok
