Natasha's lashes trembled as if resisting the pull of sleep, but when she finally blinked her eyes open, she was no longer lying in her warm bed.
She was standing barefoot in a vast hall of stone.
It was eerily silent, the kind of silence that pressed against the ribs and made each heartbeat sound too loud. Flickering torches lined the walls, their light casting restless shadows that climbed toward the arched ceiling.
At the far end of the hall was a statue.
The stone figure stood tall and imposing, but its face was veiled in a hood carved from the same marble. No features could be seen. Yet the aura it radiated was undeniable—divine, eternal, watching.
And kneeling before it, shoulders bowed low, was the blond man from before.
Natasha's breath caught in her throat.
