(Skylar's POV)
The coldness of the walls had stopped bothering her. The silence too. What lingered now was the weight of what she'd done—and the sound of shattered glass echoing in her head, again and again.
They hadn't come to beat her.
They hadn't come to question her.
They hadn't even spoken.
Until now.
The heavy iron door creaked, and a single pair of boots echoed in. Measured. Controlled. Elegant fury wrapped in a female form.
Amara.
Skylar didn't lift her head right away. She recognized the rhythm of that walk. Confident. Purposeful. Territorial.
"So," Skylar murmured, voice barely audible, "he sent his new bride to finish what he couldn't."
Amara folded her arms, not even blinking. "If I came to finish you, Skylar, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Then what do you want?" Skylar looked up finally, eyes still sharp despite the dim cell light. "To gloat? Or just remind me that you won?"
Amara took a step closer. "I didn't win. You lost. There's a difference."
Skylar smiled coldly. "And Chris? Did he bleed for you the way he bled because of me?"
The words were meant to sting. But Amara didn't flinch.
"He bled because he trusted his past," she said calmly. "He bled because he hesitated. And now, no one hesitates around you anymore, Skylar. Not me. Not the guards. Not even Classic."
At that, Skylar's eyes narrowed. "Classic?"
Amara smirked. "Yes. Your son. He's not on your side anymore."
Silence fell again.
Skylar sat back slowly, the words cutting deeper than any chain. "Lies."
"No," Amara replied, stepping back toward the cell door. "Empire."
Before she left, she added one last thing.
"Chris made me 02. But I'm not just his wife now. I'm his wall. His sword. His silence."
She paused.
"Sleep tight, Skylar. Because once the Empire awakens… you may never walk through those palace doors again."
And then she was gone.
The cell door shut with a finality that even Skylar couldn't deny.