The car rolled through the sleeping countryside, its headlights carving a thin path through mist and shadow.
Inside, Alessia sat between the two Council emissaries—men carved from silence, their expressions unreadable, their eyes hidden behind glass.
No one spoke.
The hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of her pulse filled the space.
Every curve of the road drew her farther from Luca, from the safety of his arms, and closer to whatever fate the Council had scripted for her.
Her fingers worried the edge of her sleeve, brushing against the faint scar near her wrist—a reminder of a night when love and danger had first entwined.
Outside, dawn was breaking.
The world looked deceptively gentle—olive trees swaying in pale light, birds lifting from the branches.
Yet beneath that calm, Alessia could feel the tension tightening, a storm waiting to claim her.
When the car finally stopped, it was in front of a structure that didn't belong to any century.
The Council Hall.
