Chapter 75 Salted Vows
- The morning after blood always smelled different.
- Salt. Smoke. Lust.
- Amara stood at the prow of the boat, wrapped in a robe Lucien had draped over her hours ago. The sea churned beneath them, deep and black, stretching like an open mouth. Her knuckles rested on the steel railing. Calm. Unmoving. But inside—her heart was flayed open, stitched tight with thread made of vengeance.