Silas stepped around Julian and disappeared into the elevator, the silver doors closing with a final, metallic thud.
Amara stood in the middle of the hallway, her breath coming in shallow hitches. The gold anklet felt like a shackle.
The honeymoon dream was officially dead, replaced by the ghost of Seb and the terrifying possibility that her father had made a deal with the very family that had tried to ruin her once before.
Julian turned back to her. And everything in his expression changed. The sharpness, the calculation, the quiet readiness for war… it all fell away the moment he saw her.
Amara was trembling. Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice. Not loudly. Not dramatically.
But he saw it.
The slight shake in her fingers. The way her breath refused to settle. The fragile way she held herself together, like one wrong word, one wrong moment would shatter everything she had left.
He closed the distance between them in two strides. No hesitation. No restraint.
