Something Else

The wind hit hard when they emerged.

Cold, clean, and real.

Amara blinked up at the sky, the dull gray of pre-dawn fading into soft golds. The first rays of sunlight spilled across the mountains, brushing her skin with warmth that didn’t burn, but reminded.

She was still here.

And the world hadn't ended.

Yet.

Behind her, the massive stone doors of the chamber groaned shut. No locks. No spells. Just finality. Aiyana would sleep, for now. But not forever.

Damascus’s arm came around her waist. She leaned into him, not for support—but for grounding.

They were free, but not safe.

Not yet.

“How long before someone tries to kill us again?” Jax asked dryly, stepping into the clearing behind them and shaking dust from his coat.

Cain rolled his shoulders, scanning the tree line, “I’d say before lunch.”

“That’s generous of you.”

Amara didn’t laugh, but her lips twitched. These two—wary, scarred, stubborn—they were hers now, too. Not by blood, but by choice. And maybe that mattered more.

Damascus