(Ruby's POV)
Dawn comes slowly, seeping through the curtains like honey.
I wake to the weight of his arm across my waist, the warmth of his breath on my neck. Nicholas is still sleeping, his face soft, his lips parted. In the pale morning light, he looks younger. Peaceful. Nothing like the Beast the world fears.
I watch him for a long moment, memorizing the lines of his face, the shadows under his eyes, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. Last night was not a dream. Last night was real. Last night, I chose him.
His eyes flutter open. Gray meets gold, and he smiles. A real smile, sleepy and warm.
"Good morning," he murmurs.
"Good morning."
His hand slides up my back, pulling me closer. "You stayed."
"I stayed."
He kisses me, soft and slow, and I feel the question in it. The uncertainty. The fear that this might be the last time.
"Ruby." His voice is rough. "Last night—"
"I meant it." I touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "Every word. Every touch. I meant all of it."
He exhales, a shaky breath, and pulls me against his chest. His heart is pounding, matching mine. "I was so afraid you'd regret it. That you'd wake up and realize what you'd done."
"What I'd done?" I laugh softly. "I finally stopped being afraid. I finally chose something for myself."
He tilts my chin up, his eyes searching mine. "No regrets?"
"None."
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I feel the tension drain from his body. The fear. The doubt. The walls he built to keep the world out.
We stay in bed longer than we should, talking and touching and pretending the world doesn't exist. He tells me about his childhood, about the fire, about the years of loneliness. I tell him about Mia, about my mother, about the day I realized my family sold me.
It's not easy. The words come slowly, wrapped in pain and shame. But he listens. He holds my hand. He doesn't look away.
"You're not alone anymore," he says finally. "Whatever happens, whatever comes next, you're not alone."
I lean into him, letting his warmth chase away the cold. "Neither are you."
A soft chime breaks the silence.
Nicholas tenses, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. His face goes pale as he reads the screen.
"What is it?" I ask, my heart racing.
He turns the phone so I can see. A secure message, encrypted, marked urgent.
Uncle is digging. He's found the conservatory sketches. He knows she's looking.
My blood runs cold. Kai. He found my mother's sketches. The ones I hid. The ones that led us to the truth.
"How?" I whisper.
"Liam." Nicholas's voice is hard. "Or someone else in the house. Kai has eyes everywhere." He sets the phone down, pulling me close. "We knew this would happen. We knew he'd find out."
"But not this fast." I press my face against his chest, trying to slow my breathing. "Not before we're ready."
Nicholas is quiet for a moment. Then he shifts, tilting my face up. "Then we get ready faster. We move up the timeline. We go to Skye before he can stop us."
"And Alexander? The contact inside?"
"We reach out today. Anya can arrange a meeting. We tell him the truth about his father, about Kai, about everything. And we pray he chooses the right side."
It's a risk. A terrible, beautiful risk. If Alexander warns Kai, we lose everything. Mia. My mother. The evidence. Any chance of freedom.
But if he helps us—
"He'll help," Nicholas says, reading my thoughts. "He has to. His father was murdered. He's been looking for a way out for years. We're giving him one."
I nod, forcing myself to believe it. "Then let's not waste time."
---
We dress quickly, stealing glances at each other in the mirror. His shirt is wrinkled, his hair still messy. I look different too. Softer. Happier. Like a woman who has finally found something worth fighting for.
Nicholas catches my hand as I reach for the door. "Ruby. Before we go out there. Before we start pretending again."
I turn to face him.
"Last night was not a performance. This is not a game. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it." He lifts my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "Whatever happens in that facility, whatever Kai throws at us, remember that. Remember us."
I rise on my toes, kissing him softly. "I will."
We walk out of the room together, hand in hand, and the corridor feels different. Brighter. The shadows are still there, but they don't seem as dark.
Mrs. MacLeod is waiting in the main hall. Her eyes flick to our joined hands, then away. "The morning post, Master Nicholas. A letter arrived by courier. Marked urgent."
Nicholas takes the envelope, his jaw tightening. The seal is unfamiliar, a crest I don't recognize. He breaks it open, reading quickly.
His face goes pale.
"What is it?" I ask.
He hands me the letter. The handwriting is elegant, cold, precise.
Nicholas,
I know about the sketches. I know about the cave. I know about the girl.
You have twenty-four hours to bring me the evidence. Come alone, or your precious bride's sister dies.
—K
My hands shake. The words blur before my eyes.
"He knows," I whisper. "He knows everything."
Nicholas takes the letter, crumpling it in his fist. "He knows we have the evidence. He doesn't know where it is. He doesn't know about Alexander. He doesn't know about Anya." He pulls me close, his voice fierce. "We still have time. We still have a chance."
"Twenty-four hours."
"Then we make them count."
He turns to Mrs. MacLeod, his expression shifting to the cold mask of the Beast. "Cancel my appointments. Tell the staff I'm unwell. No one enters or leaves this house without my permission."
She nods, disappearing into the shadows.
Nicholas takes my hand, leading me back toward the west wing. "We need to move the evidence. Somewhere Kai can't find it. Somewhere safe."
"The cave?"
"Too obvious. He knows about the cave." He thinks for a moment, his eyes distant. "The safe house in Edinburgh. The penthouse. He doesn't know about that place. We hide the files there, and we go to Skye."
"And Alexander?"
"Anya will make contact today. We'll know by tonight if he's willing to help." He stops at the west wing door, turning to face me. "Ruby, if this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"But if it does—"
I kiss him, silencing the words. "It won't. We're going to win, Nicholas. We're going to save Mia. We're going to burn Kai's empire to the ground. And then we're going to come home and build something real."
He rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my lips. "You make it sound so easy."
"Maybe it is. Maybe the only hard part was believing it could happen."
He smiles, and it's the smile I'm falling in love with. Hopeful. Brave. Real.
"Then let's go believe in something impossible."
He opens the door, and we step into the west wing together. The sun is streaming through the glass ceiling, turning the studio gold. The piano is waiting, silent and patient. The files are hidden, safe for now.
But the clock is ticking.
Twenty-four hours.
And then the war begins.