Chapter 94 Let Them Remember Her Name

• Sleep never came for Amara.
• She perched at the edge of the estate’s rooftop garden, draped in a silk robe still marked with the blood of a woman who once called her sister—and the scent of the man who now only ever called her his queen. Below, the city lay still, but it wasn’t peace that held it—it was dread. As if every brick and window knew the reckoning wasn't over.
• Lucien arrived just before the hour turned, quiet as smoke, bourbon in hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He passed her the drink, knelt behind her, and let his hands settle on her shoulders—steady, reverent, like a man touching the divine.