Lyra(Mia’s )POVThe castle was too quiet. Quiet in the way that made every footstep sound like a loud noise, every shadow stretch too long.Sleep had abandoned me hours ago. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, the council’s voices whispered through my head, weaving doubts like thorns. But more than their words, it was Damion’s silence afterward that haunted me. He had defended me, yes, but when the chamber emptied, he looked as though he carried a war inside himself.I needed to know why.My feet carried me down the northern wing, the place servants avoided unless summoned. The air was cooler here, the torches dimmer, as though even flame hesitated to intrude. At the end of the corridor, a heavy oak door pulsed with a thin line of light beneath it.Damion was awake.I pressed my palm against the door, meaning to knock, but froze when I heard it—the sound of glass clinking against metal, then the sharp hiss of a stopper being pulled free. My chest tightened.Careful, I pushed the d
Lyra (Mia’s)POVThe day bled into evening too quickly. By the time I left the studio floor, the lights in the Bloodhound corridors burned low, painting the marble in tired gold. I had spent hours with designers, running through adjustments for the Moonshine showcase, rehearsing calm and control until both felt like skin I could not shed.But beneath it all, I was restless.Every stitch of fabric, every wary glance, every forced smile it was a reminder that I was still an intruder in this empire. I had shifted the air in the studio, yes, but whispers were not loyalty. They were only pauses before judgment.I moved toward the private wing, heels clicking against the polished floor. Veronica had left earlier with Marta, insisting I rest, but rest was a luxury for people who did not have sisters like Nyla or enemies like Xander Bennett. My thoughts circled them both like wolves circling prey.And then I heard him.“Beautiful, even when the room is empty.”The voice slid through the quiet
Lyra (Mia’s) POVMorning light found the Bloodhound windows pale and thin. It crept across the marble floors and warmed the portraits of cold ancestors, but it did not soften the air. The house still smelled faintly of Perfume,cigar, danger.I dressed slow. Silk slid over my skin. I wrapped my hair into a loose knot to hide the stubborn curl at my nape. Veronica moved like a shadow at my back, folding a scarf I would not wear. Her eyes were tired. She had not slept either.“You should not go into the office today,” she said, voice small. “The staff is talking. The designers are talking. The models will not stop whispering.”“Then I will make them talk about something else,” I said. I did not sound as certain as I wanted. The words sounded like a promise and a dare at the same time. I set my jaw and left my room.The corridors still held their echoes. Servants dipped their heads and then glanced away too quickly. Faces that had been polite now skirted around me like wary animals. I did
CHAPTER 97Damion’s POVThe night had not ended.I sat behind my desk, the fire in the hearth long gone cold, though sweat still clung to the back of my neck. The glass of bourbon in my hand had warmed hours ago, untouched. I should have been preparing for the council, sharpening strategies, outlining orders, but all I had done since leaving that balcony was think of her.Mia. Lyra. Both, and neither.Every time I closed my eyes I saw her defiance, the way she dared to stand against me with no shield but her truth. I had faced warriors who bared teeth and blades, rogues who fought like beasts without reason, but none had shaken me like one woman standing beneath the stars with nothing but fire in her eyes.My wolf paced inside me, restless, growling, unsettled. Mate, he kept rumbling, over and over, as if the word itself were a brand. I refused to accept it. Fated bonds were chains, and I had never allowed myself to be bound. Yet every breath I took tonight burned with the scent of he
Mia’s POVThe ballroom was still ringing in my ears long after I left it. The whispers. The gasps. The sharp crack in Nyla’s perfect mask as the truth tore through her lies.I should have felt satisfied. I should have felt vindicated. But as I stood in the quiet of my chamber, staring at my reflection in the tall mirror, all I saw was a woman trembling under the weight of what she had unleashed.The satin straps of my gown slid down my shoulders, revealing bruises I didn’t remember getting. Maybe from where Damion’s grip had been too hard. Or maybe from where I had clung too tightly to the rail when he walked away.My fingers curled against the cold vanity table. “You wanted this,” I whispered at the woman in the mirror. “So why does it feel like you lost something too?”The door creaked behind me. I turned, breath catching.“Still awake.”Damion filled the doorway, shoulders broad, suit jacket tossed carelessly over his arm. His shirt was half unbuttoned, the faint glint of sweat on
Damion’s POVThe night stank of scandal.By the time I left Mia standing on that balcony, the storm inside me was worse than the chaos that had unraveled in the ballroom.I was supposed to be in control. Always. My word was law, my presence enough to command silence. Yet when I looked at her—when I saw that fire in her eyes, that unyielding defiance—it rattled me.I should have crushed it.But instead, I wanted more of it.The corridor stretched before me, lined with gold sconces, polished marble, and guards who lowered their eyes as I passed. They bowed, but the usual satisfaction that came with such submission wasn’t there. My mind was still on her.Lyra.Mia.Or both.The way she said she had already died once—spirits, it made my chest tighten. Her voice had been steady, but I caught the tremor underneath. That wasn’t a performance. That was truth.And truth like that was dangerous.My fists curled at my sides. She thought exposing Nyla would bring her justice. She didn’t see the b