(Ruby's POV)
The sun climbed higher, burning through the morning mist.
I sat on the porch of the safe house with Nicholas beside me, his shoulder warm against mine. The old blanket Mrs. MacLeod had given me was wrapped around us both. The air smelled like damp earth and the last traces of smoke from somewhere far away.
We hadn't moved in hours. Neither of us wanted to.
After everything – the fire, the chase, the death of Kai – this stillness felt like something we had earned. Like a prize at the end of a very long, very bloody race.
"Do you think the manor is still standing?" I asked.
Nicholas tilted his head, considering. "The east wing, yes. The firefighters managed to save it. The west wing is gone, though. The conservatory too."
I nodded. I had expected that. The fire had been too big, too hungry. Glass and old wood never stood a chance.
"But we can rebuild," he said, turning to look at me. His eyes were tired but clear. "Better than before. Stronger."
