Amara POV

The coffee shop was a quiet hum of conversation and clinking porcelain, a contrast to the storm brewing inside me. I had arrived early, needing a moment to collect my thoughts and rein in the tempest of emotions that had consumed me since Isobel’s triumphant pronouncements. I watched the door, my heart pounding with a mix of dread and furious resolve.

And then he was there. A man I knew only as an enigma, a puzzle I hadn’t been able to solve. He was a presence in the room, his ...