Adrian remained alone long after Elena disappeared into the dim corridor, her silhouette swallowed by shadow and silence. The hall around him felt cavernous without her. The golden sconces flickered against the marble pillars, casting long, restless shapes across the floor—shapes that seemed to shift with the turmoil inside him.
He stood perfectly still in the center of the great hall, his hands clenched at his sides, breathing unevenly. He had faced wars, betrayals, and decades of threats that tried to carve him down to bone. But nothing—not even the darkest of those nights—compared to the agony of watching Elena walk away from him after he had finally stripped himself bare.
He had given her the truth.
He had given her everything.
And he had no idea if it would be enough.
The silence pressed in, thick and unrelenting. Adrian finally exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair. The tension inside him was unbearable—sharp, volatile, desperate.
He couldn't follow her.
Not yet.
