Chapter 80 Ash And Embers

• The morning after didn’t come with peace. It came with ash. It came with blood drying beneath Amara’s fingernails and bruises blooming across Lucien’s ribs like war medals.
• They hadn’t spoken much since the night Rafael died—his body reduced to smoke and ruin. They’d returned from the warehouse bloodied but breathing, after ripping the betrayal out by its roots. And yet, the silence between them now said more than any vengeance could.
• Amara sat at the long mahogany table in the war room of her coastal estate, still dressed in black silk that clung to her like armor. The open balcony let the sea breeze carry the scent of salt and war. Inside, everything was still. Until Lucien walked in.