Semua Bab Twin Hearts,Broken Bonds: Bab 91 - Bab 100

Lyra (Mia’s) POVI had planned to take them down one by one.I didn’t expect both of them to line up against me.Damion remained on the stage. He was in the dark about this part of the plan, but he stood by me nonetheless. At this point, that was the only thing I could hope for.If Nyla thought ganging up with her husband would scare me into backing away, she was wrong.“I didn’t call him a murderer. I only called him an accomplice. You are the one who is the murderer!”Everyone gasped, their ears sharp and ready to catch the drama about to unfold.Nyla scoffed and threw her hands up in the air. “I have had enough of you handing out allegations all evening! You just can’t stand not being the center of attention, can you?”I could see what she was trying to do—go off topic. I could smell the fear on her, the fear that I might actually present evidence that would get her in trouble.Well, her fear was justified. Because I was about to end whatever career and reputation she had managed t

Xander’s POVThe echoes of her scream still clung to the marble walls long after they dragged Nyla away.The woman I once trusted. The one I let into my home, into my bed, into my future. Now paraded before everyone as a murderer.The flashes of cameras hadn’t stopped even as the chaos unfolded. Journalists in the back corner were still scribbling, their pens moving like hungry rats desperate for crumbs. The audience, once applauding me as a genius, now whispered, heads bent together in fevered gossip.My stomach churned.This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end. I had envisioned glory, champagne, headlines celebrating Xander Design’s triumph. Not humiliation, not scandal, not Nyla dragged away like some criminal out of a cheap drama.And yet…I couldn’t bring myself to look away from her.From Mia.Or Lyra, as she had screamed at the top of her lungs—like she was daring me to remember.She stood there like a specter of my past, eyes blazing with vindication. Every word she’d throw

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

Damion’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 her, and every

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