The drive back to the estate felt as though they were traveling through a vacuum. The city lights of the metropolitan center flickered in the rearview mirror like dying embers, a distant world that seemed increasingly irrelevant as the limousine wound its way up the private, heavily forested road. Flanked by the sentinel-like silhouettes of ancient pines and guarded by high-tension security fences, the Dravik estate was more than a home; it was a sovereign territory.
Inside the car, Darien was a pillar of absolute silence. His hand was a constant, burning weight over Amara's, his fingers interlaced with hers so tightly it was as if he were afraid she might evaporate into the shadows. He had been quiet since they left the Ispire headquarters, his silver eyes fixed on the passing darkness of the trees, his mind clearly navigating the treacherous labyrinth of Council politics and the ancient blood-laws he was about to invoke.
