Raina's scream pierced the silence, sharp as a blade.
She bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her breaths shallow and frantic. Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs, but it wasn't just fear. It was the echo of something darker something real.
In the dream, she hadn't just watched Lucien die.
She'd been the one holding his heart.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood on unsteady feet. Her body ached in places the battle had never touched. Her skin burned where the mark used to pulse only now, it was quiet. Not healed.
Hollow.
The mansion lay still. Too still.
She stepped into the corridor barefoot, her silk gown clinging to damp skin. The walls whispered with memories blood-slicked floors, shattered glass, voices trapped between the bricks. She passed a cracked mirror and froze.
Her reflection stared back… but there was someone else behind her. The woman she used to be. Cold. Ruthless. Golden-eyed.
She kept walking.
Downstairs, the training hall had been reduced to stone and ruin. Lucien was there, shirtless, drenched in sweat, his sword slicing through air like he wanted it to scream. Each strike landed hard. Controlled. Furious.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, not turning.
"No." Her voice broke, barely audible.
He stopped mid swing. Turned.
His eyes ran down the length of her flushed cheeks, her trembling fingers, the fear she didn't speak. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
She stepped closer. "So are you."
The blade dropped. His hands were on her in seconds firm at her waist, eyes stormy with something he didn't dare name.
"Say it," he murmured, voice low and guttural.
"Say what?"
"That you need me."
Her fingers curled into the scars on his back. "I need you."
That was all it took.
Lucien gripped her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Her back slammed against the stone pillar with a gasp. Her legs locked around him, hips grinding against the hard length of him through thin fabric.
His mouth found her throat, biting then kissing the sting away. "Every time you dream, I feel it," he growled.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
"You're mine."
He tore the silk gown from her shoulder. Her breast spilled free, and his mouth latched on like a man starved. She moaned, body arching into him, desperate for more.
Lucien dropped to his knees, dragging her down with him. The gown pooled at her feet. He spread her thighs, hands reverent, eyes glowing.
"You're soaked," he said hoarsely. "Do you even know what you do to me?"
"Show me," she whispered.
He didn't hesitate.
His mouth crashed into her heat, tongue ruthless and unrelenting. Her cry echoed in the broken hall. He devoured her like she was the only thing tethering him to sanity. Her hips bucked. Her hands fisted in his hair.
"Don't stop," she begged.
He didn't.
She shattered hard twice before he finally rose, mouth glistening, eyes feral. He flipped her to her hands and knees, positioning her without a word. His body pressed against hers, and then he was inside her.
Slow. Deep. Devastating.
She cried out, clawing at the floor, overwhelmed by the stretch, the perfect rhythm of him moving inside her. He bent over her, teeth grazing her shoulder.
"You're everything."
And she broke again.
They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, skin slick with sweat, chests rising in unison.
But the silence that followed was louder than the storm.
Lucien pulled her into his arms. "Something's changed."
She nodded, tears slipping down her cheek. "I'm losing time."
Lucien froze.
"I woke up in the woods yesterday. I don't remember how I got there."
He cupped her face. "You need help."
"I got a letter," she whispered. "From Aeris."
His entire body tensed. "What did it say?"
"She offered a ritual. To sever the bond."
His hands dropped.
"It would save my mind," she said quietly. "But I'd lose you."
Lucien stared at her for a long, heavy beat. "You'd survive. That's all that matters."
"It's not enough," she said. "I want both. I want us.
"You might not get both."
She stood slowly, naked in the fading moonlight. "Then I have a choice to make."
Later that night, Raina stood on the balcony, the torn letter in hand. Maeva joined her silently.
"Do it," Maeva said. "While you still can."
Raina looked out over the forest, her jaw tight. "Would you?"
Maeva said nothing.
"I didn't think so." Raina's voice broke on the wind.
She tore the letter into pieces. The scraps scattered like ash into the night.
But even as the wind carried them away, the question clung to her chest like a wound:
Was love worth losing herself?
Or… was she already gone?