Silas's POV
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The city had changed.
New towers. Bigger walls. Shinier gates.
But beneath the polish, it still stank of blood and politics.
I watched the buildings blur past the window as the car rolled up the long mountain road. My fingers drummed once against my knee. Once was enough.
I didn't fidget.
Didn't pace.
Didn't breathe unless I had to.
Five years.
That's what they said.
But in the realm I went to—the place they called the Hollow Vale—it hadn't even been one full year. Time moved differently there. Slower. Colder. Crueler.
I bled for eleven months. Lost thirty-seven men. Buried each one by hand.
Watched a boy I raised die screaming in fire while I carved through beasts that didn't belong in any world.
And I came back with the kind of silence that no council meeting could ever break.
They thought I disappeared.
I didn't.
I survived.
Barely.
And now, here I was—riding in the back of a sleek black car like some royal son being paraded home.
Home.
Funny word for a place where every wall whispered betrayal.
My jaw clenched as the gates of the Crimson Claw estate came into view—taller than I remembered, crowned with the Duskbane crest.
His crest.
His name.
And hers, now.
The memory hit like a blade. Sharper than any sword I'd carried.
Raine.
She was the only thing that kept me sane in that cursed realm. Her voice in my head. Her laughter. Her mouth. Her taste.
Gods, her taste.
I'd kill to forget the sound she made when I pushed inside her for the first time. The way her nails dragged down my back. The way she said my name like it was a promise.
She was mine.
And she said she'd wait.
But she didn't.
She fucking didn't.
No one told me when I crossed back.
I arrived in the city and heard it from a merchant's boy, of all people.
"The King's Luna? You mean Lady Raine?"
"King's…"
They said her name like she was a statue. A saint. Polished and precious.
They didn't know what she sounded like when she was pinned to a mattress, begging me to go deeper. To ruin her.
They didn't know she used to scream my name.
They didn't know I used to own every inch of that body—mind, heart, soul.
And now she wore his mark.
My father's.
My Mate!
The man the trained me to look enemies in the eye, the man who teached me how to wield a sword, to show no mercy.
Damon Duskbane.
My father and the man who took my goddamn mate.
I leaned back against the leather seat and closed my eyes for a moment, exhaling through my nose.
I'd trained myself not to feel.
Not to flinch.
Not to hope.
But the second I stepped foot in that palace tonight and saw her again—saw the woman who let me go and fell into my father's bed instead—
All of that calm?
Would burn.
After some minutes.
The car came to a slow stop.
Outside, the world waited.
I adjusted my cuffs, buttoned the top of my coat, and stepped out.
Silence met me.
Not the awkward kind. Not uncertainty.
Respect.
Two rows of guards flanked the marble steps leading to the main hall, each one in full ceremonial armor—heads bowed, shoulders squared. Beyond them, the palace staff stood at attention: maids, advisors, chamber officials. All of them arranged like chess pieces, trained to remain still in the presence of a Duskbane son.
But they weren't ready for me.
Not this version.
Not what the Hollow Vale turned me into.
My boots hit the stone with a deliberate rhythm. Every step echoed off the walls like a war drum. Heads remained bowed. But I felt the tension.
They had heard things.
That I disappeared.
That I died.
That I fought monsters that could steal your name and wear your skin.
They didn't know half of it.
Let them wonder.
Let them fear.
I climbed the stairs slowly, letting them all take in what five years had done. My shoulders broader. My eyes sharper. My silence louder.
And then it hit me.
A scent.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
Like summer rain over wild roses. A little spice. A little warmth. A little wild.
I stopped.
Only for a second.
The guards didn't notice, but my jaw did.
My hands.
My blood.
Her.
Raine.
I hadn't smelled her in five fucking years.
But my body remembered. Gods, did it remember.
The way she used to smell just after I—
I exhaled once, slow and deep.
Focus.
This was not the time.
Not the place.
She was somewhere inside that palace.
Close.
Watching, maybe.
I didn't look for her.
Didn't search the windows or balconies like a boy aching to glimpse his first love.
I just walked.
Stone-faced.
Heart sealed behind walls thick enough to stop a war.
But the scent stayed.
Clinging.
Mocking.
Burning.
And I knew—before the night ended, I'd see her again.
And when I did, I'd remember exactly how she used to taste.
""'
Raine's POV
I shouldn't have looked.
I told myself not to.
I gripped the balcony railing like it could stop me from falling, heart already thudding too fast in my chest.
And then I saw him.
Silas.
He stepped out of the car like a god sculpted in shadows—taller than I remembered, broader across the shoulders, his dark coat clinging to every inch of strength carved by war. His hair was a little longer, falling in thick, tousled waves. His jaw sharper. His presence... lethal.
Like a storm in a tailored suit.
My breath caught. I forgot to exhale.
Gods.
He moved like he didn't belong to this world anymore. Like he'd seen things no one else had and survived them with steel in his spine and ice in his blood.
But his face—
Cold. Blank. Unreadable.
There was no warmth. No flicker of recognition. No softness in the way his mouth pressed into that beautiful, ruthless line.
And yet—
My body reacted like it was still his.
Heat bloomed low in my belly.
I clenched the railing tighter.
Because in that split second, as he took another step toward the palace gates, I saw a flash—a memory—rip through me like lightning.
His body over mine. His voice in my ear.
"Don't hide from me, Raine."
My back arching, begging for more.
"You're mine when you scream, not when you whisper."
His mouth, hot and sinful, between my thighs.
My knees nearly gave out. I gripped the marble like I could squeeze the memory out of my bones.
Five years. Five years, and I still dreamed of the way he said my name when he was inside me—like it hurt to want me that much.
He didn't even glance up.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't feel it.
I should've felt relieved.
I didn't.
Because just as I tried to catch my breath, just as my heart screamed his name—
He paused.
Not long.
Barely a second.
But his head shifted. His eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—tilted just slightly.
Almost like he felt me.
Almost like he knew I was there.
My stomach flipped. My fingers went numb.
Did he—
"Silas."
The name cut through the silence like a sword.
I turned sharply.
Damon.
My husband was at the grand entrance, stepping down the stairs with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
And just like that—the moment was gone.
Silas turned his head toward Damon's voice, stone-faced and perfect.
He didn't look back.
Not once.
And yet… my chest wouldn't stop rising and falling.
Because I knew.
Somehow—I knew—
That he'd felt me.
Just like I still felt him.