Rain hammered the roof of the safehouse like a thousand frantic fingers.Varian stood at the window, hands braced on the sill, the glow of distant fires painting sharp edges across his face. The Marcelli heir’s blood was still drying on his gloves. Liora watched him from across the room—quiet, steady, present.“We need sleep,” she murmured.He didn’t turn. “Sleep is for people not hunted by ghosts.”“Then we rest,” she corrected. “Just enough to keep our judgment sharp.”He turned then, studying her—the exhaustion, the fierce resolve, the warmth she refused to lose even now. “Come here,” he said softly.She crossed the room and leaned against him, his arm sliding around her waist.Before either could speak, Bram’s voice bellowed down the hall:“Boss! Liora! You’re going to want to see this!”Varian released her instantly.“Of course,” Liora muttered. “No peace.”“Not for people like us,” Varian answered, already moving.Bram and Ines stood in the entry hall with someone, soaked, and p
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