Jason stood in the empty parking lot of the Rusty Spoon, watching Sophia's taillights disappear into the gathering dusk.The cold wind cut through his jacket, but he barely felt it. His mind was still in the diner—still replaying her words, her tears, the way she had pushed the parchment away as if it might burn her.I didn't ask for this. I don't want this. I just want to live my life.He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.I know. But the war doesn't care what we want.He walked to his truck—an old, battered thing that had seen better decades—and climbed in. The engine coughed to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot, heading not toward the estate, but away from it.The Wardens were waiting.***The church was hidden in plain sight.On the outskirts of the city, where the suburbs gave way to farmland, stood a small, rundown building with a sagging roof and a steeple that leaned slightly to the left. The sign out front read "St. Michael's Community Church" in faded

The first pale light of dawn crept through the nursery curtains, painting silver stripes across the floor.Sophia hadn't moved from her spot beside the crib. Her back ached from sitting against the wall, her eyes burned from crying, and her throat was raw from the silent screams that had woken her. But she didn't care. She had watched the twins breathe through the night—every rise and fall of their tiny chests, every small sound, every shift in their sleep.They were alive. They were safe. They were still here.And she would keep them that way.She heard footsteps in the hallway—soft, careful, the footsteps of someone who didn't want to wake the house. The nursery door creaked open, and Bella stepped inside.She was wearing her nightgown, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her face still soft with sleep. She had come to check on the twins, as she did every morning, as she had done since the day they were born.She stopped when she saw Sophia."Sophia?" Bella's voice was a whis

Five years ago.Jason had been assigned to protect Sophia for eight years at that point. She had been a teenager when he first arrived—grieving, angry, lost. Her mother's death had left a wound that seemed impossible to heal, and Sophia had tried to heal it all by herself.Jason had followed her to that small town, had taken up residence in the crumbling apartment next door, had become the handyman who fixed her leaky faucets and repaired her broken windows. He had been her quiet presence in the background, the one who never asked questions, who never pushed, who simply was there.And in the process, he had watched her grow.He had seen her transform from a grieving teenager into a young woman—fierce, stubborn, brilliant. He had listened to her talk about her dreams late at night, when the loneliness became too much to bear. He had watched her laugh for the first time in months, had felt his heart clench at the sound. He had fallen in love with her. Quietly. Silently. Irrevocably.He

Jason's silence stretched like a wound.The dust motes danced in the pale morning light, indifferent to the weight of the question that hung in the air. Jacqueline's eyes were fixed on him, sharp and unyielding. Sophia waited, her breath held. Jackson stood motionless, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.Finally, Jason spoke."Because I don't have an answer."He looked down at his hands—the hands that had repaired Sophia's faucets, that had held her when she cried, that had killed shadows in the dark."The Wardens have been fighting the Queen for centuries," he said. "We have defeated her before. We have driven her back, sealed her away, wounded her so deeply that she could not rise for decades. But we have never—" He paused. Swallowed. "We have never found a way to stop her permanently.""Never?" Sophia's voice was barely a whisper."Never." Jason looked up, meeting her eyes. "She is not like other Devourers. She is not like any enemy we have faced. She is a Hart. She carries the