The ride to Luca's fortress was like slipping into hell.
Ayla sat beside him in the armored truck, the night swallowing them whole. The air reeked of smoke and ash from the burning rebel compound.
Luca said nothing at first. Just watched her. His black eyes reflected the moonlight like a predator's.
---
"You could've run," he said finally.
Ayla stared ahead, fists clenched.
"I didn't."
Luca's grin was sharp, dangerous. "No. You didn't. You chose me."
---
They reached the fortress just before dawn.
Steel walls rose high, crowned with barbed wire and watchtowers. Guards in black lined the gates, bowing as Luca stepped out.
He turned to Ayla, offered his hand.
"Welcome home, Queen."
---
The fortress was a palace of shadows. Marble floors streaked with old blood. Chandeliers of shattered crystal.
Luca led her through it like a king returning to his throne.
Whispers followed them.