Amara's POV
I found him alone again.
The great Chris Blackwood, ruler of a world that feared him—yet here he was, seated in silence, staring into the night like a man waiting for the storm to end.
I didn't knock. I didn't need to. The guards let me through; they knew I was the only one who could walk in unannounced now.
"Chris," I said, stepping inside.
He didn't move.
"I need you to revoke the command."
Now, his jaw clenched.
"Skylar is not to be harmed," he repeated, almost like a prayer.
I moved closer, arms folded. "You said that as if she's still your ally."
"She's still my wife," he said, finally looking at me.
"And I'm your sword," I replied. "You can't have both. You can't tell me to defend you and then leave your enemies untouched."
"She is 02 of the empire, Amara. You don't get to decide what that means."
I could feel the tension flare behind my ribs. "She's undermining everything we've built. In the press. In the streets. She's not just challenging your power—she's creating her own."
He stood now, towering. "She's still mine to deal with."
My voice dropped, ice lacing every word. "Or maybe you just don't want to be the one to destroy her."
That hit something.
He turned away, fists clenched, breathing sharp.
"I gave her that title," he said, softer now. "I raised her name beside mine. If I let anyone touch her now, I'm not just punishing her—I'm admitting that I failed."
I stepped beside him, hand resting on his arm.
"Then let me carry that failure for you."
His silence was long. Heavy.
"No," he said at last. "If she must fall, it will be by my hand. Not yours. Not Christiana's. Not the people's."
I pulled away. "Then I'll stay my sword—for now. But don't ask me to respect her throne when she's trying to burn yours."
And with that, I left.
Because even loyalty has limits.