Chains

The storm had passed, but inside the compound, the real storm raged on.

Dawn broke in pale grey light, cold and heavy. The fires were out. Smoke clung to everything, making the ruins look like a graveyard of ash. Ayla stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching the rebels work—clearing bodies, salvaging what they could, tending to the wounded.

But it wasn't victory she felt.

It was dread.

Because beneath the compound, in the deepest cell, Luca waited.

---

Mira approached, her face drawn with exhaustion and fury.

"You should've killed him," she said, voice low and bitter. "He'll destroy us all."

Ayla didn't answer. She couldn't.

Because she didn't know why she hadn't done it.

Because part of her—the part she hated—needed to see him again.

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