The fortress was unusually quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet but the heavy, suffocating silence that follows bloodshed. The kind that hums through stone, filling the air with the echoes of screams that had only just faded.
Sophia lay on a long oak table repurposed into a makeshift medical bed. Her skin was pale, her dark lashes resting on cheeks smudged with soot and dried blood. Isabella sat beside her, fingers trembling as she brushed a loose strand from Sophia's forehead.
"You should rest," Luca murmured from the other side of the room. His voice was rough, scraped with exhaustion and fear. "You've been awake since…"
"No," Isabella whispered. "I need to be here."
Across the room, Damian watched her silently more silently than she expected. Battle had sharpened him again, but something in his eyes remained haunted. His jaw clenched each time she winced, as if her pain were a blade pressed against his throat.
Sophia stirred.
