The attack began with silence.
Not a war cry.
Not the thunder of footsteps.
Just the unnatural stillness of a morning that felt like it was holding its breath.
The Iron Crown fortress stood wrapped in mist, the gray light barely touching the stone walls. Isabella was awake long before the alarms rang. Pregnancy had sharpened her instincts; every shadow felt like danger, every shift of the wind a warning.
She stood on the balcony overlooking the training grounds, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach. The child fluttered gently beneath her palm.
A sign.
A whisper.
A warning.
Luca rushed out onto the balcony, breath sharp, eyes wild.
"They're here."
The words sliced the cold air open like a blade.
Isabella didn't flinch.
She had been waiting for this moment, the moment Alessandro Moretti would come for her, for her child, for the throne she'd dared to stand on in Damian's place.
"Sound the alarm," she said softly.
And the fortress awakened.
Sirens wailed.
