The storm outside the compound was raging, but inside Damian's old office there was an eerie, breath-holding quiet.
Isabella had returned there alone.
She needed to feel him not as the feared king the world knew, but as the man who once held her like she was the only thing he'd fight eternity for.
The room still smelled faintly of cedar and the cologne he favored.
She ran her fingers across his desk, across the knife marks and long-forgotten scratches from nights he'd paced, planned, and fought invisible wars.
Something tugged at her attention.
A loose brick.
She frowned, stepping closer. It was subtle barely noticeable but her instincts were rarely wrong these days. Pulling at it, the brick slid free, dust trailing down like falling ash.
Behind it was a folded, yellowed envelope.
Her breath punched out of her.
Her name was written on it in his handwriting.
"Isabella."
