I taste champagne and something that feels like destiny, but . . . something’s wrong.
The edges of the memory blur and twist. There’s a reason we can’t—a reason I shouldn’t—but his hands are branding against my skin, and I can’t remember why this isn’t right.
“Rowe,” I choke out, seeing him still on his knees, surrounded by Alexander’s men now. The image burns behind my eyes. “They were hurting him. Kane, they were—”
“He’ll be fine. The medical team—”
“No.” The word dissolves into another coughing fit that leaves me gasping.
A new memory crashes through.
Fifteen now, standing with Rowe on the roof. Moonlight catches in his dark-blond hair as he leans in, and the air between us is thick with everything unspoken. My heart hammers as his hand finds my waist, thumb tracing patterns that burn through silk, but as I move to bridge the space, he turns away.
“We can’t,” he whispers, and something delicate inside me fractures. We never quite fixed it. A week later, Dom storms into my life like wildfire, and I let myself be consumed by his chaos instead of tethered by Rowe’s light.
“Aria?” Kane’s voice sharpens with fresh panic. “Aria, can you hear me?”
I give the barest nod as we approach Founders’ Crest, my ruby flaring erratically at my throat. The wards tonight feel different, heavy and probing, asif trying to decipher something that no longer makes sense.
Alarms shriek to life. Red light washes the checkpoint in warning pulses, and through my blurred vision, I watch the enforcers sprint forward, weapons half-drawn.
“What do you mean ‘unidentified’?” Kane roars, unfolding from the driver’s seat with lethal calm. Even in my haze, I see the guards flinch. “It’s Aria fucking Ellis. Check your systems again.”
“Sir, the wards,” The lead enforcer steps forward, “they’re not recognizing her magical signature. We need to—”
“You need to look at this.” Kane produces a badge from inside his jacket. “Then you need to think very carefully about what happens when Kian Blackwood learns his son’s fiancée bled out at the gates because of your ‘protocols.’”
The enforcer blanches as he examines the badge. “We still need to—”
“To what?” Kane’s voice turns to ice. “To watch her die while you file forms? Look at her.”
The enforcer peers through the window and his eyes widen. My lips are stained with black blood, the ruby at my throat flickering like a dying star.
“Override it,” he barks. “Manually. Now.”
Kane slides back into the seat beside me, jaw clenched. “Hold on,” he mutters, barely audible. There’s a tremor in his voice he doesn’t quite hide. “Just a little longer. Someone in that cursed house will know what to do.”
The wards press against our skin, dense with intent, hovering on the edge of tearing or letting us through.
Another pulse of agony lurches through me. The car wavers and Dom appears beside me, his smile gentle as he reaches for my face. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.”
But when I blink, blood streams from his mouth, his eyes, everywhere. The hallucination fractures and loops, twisting tighter with everybreath.
“No,” I whimper, reaching for him. “Please. Not again. I can’t watch you bleed again.”
The car screeches to a stop. I’m weightless for a heartbeat before Kane lifts me. His breathing rasps against my temple, ragged with strain. I catch fragments of the Blackwood estate’s stone walls towering above us.
A familiar scent cuts through the haze. Leather. Spice. Amber. My heart stutters.
“Dom?” The word is barely a breath.
A voice slices through the fog, frantic and raw. “Give her to me.”
Kane hesitates, arms tightening. “I don’t know what’s happening. Her blood—”
“Now.” The command is feral.
As Kane transfers me into new arms, I force my eyes open. I see Rowe. His features are soft with concern, just like they always were.
