Darius's POV
The silence in my chamber was deafening.
I couldn't sleep. Couldn't think straight. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Amara's face—sharp, fearless, loyal to Chris, devoted to the Empire... and trusting me.
She always had.
And now?
I was betraying her in slow motion.
I tried to justify it—told myself I was aligning with the future. That Classic's plan was sharper, more evolved, more stable. That Chris needed silent loyalists if this empire would survive the chaos building beneath the surface.
But the more I repeated it, the hollower it sounded.
I couldn't live like this. Not in shadows. Not while lying to the only woman who ever truly saw me.
---
She was in the war room—alone, pacing. Her fingers traced over strategy maps, numbers, projected coups… and still, she looked lost.
"Amara," I said softly.
She turned quickly, eyes narrowing. "Darius. Anything on the mole?"
I swallowed hard.
"I know who it is," I said.
She stepped forward, her stare burning through me. "Then tell me."
"It's… me."
The words landed like a blade in the room.
She didn't speak. Didn't flinch. Just… stared. Like her world stopped for a second.
"I met with Classic," I continued. "He offered me nothing. I asked to join. I told myself it was for the Empire. But the truth is—I was afraid. Afraid you'd lose. That Chris was weakening. That… everything was slipping."
Still no words.
"I didn't sabotage anything. Not yet. But I lied to you. And that guilt—" My voice cracked. "It's killing me."
Silence.
Then she walked forward—slow, controlled.
I prepared for a slap. Or worse.
Instead, she whispered, "Why are you telling me now?"
"Because I still believe in you," I said. "And if I'm going to die, I want it to be with a clean conscience."
Amara stared for another moment.
Then—softly, almost coldly—she said, "Leave this room. I need to decide whether you're still mine… or my enemy."
I nodded once.
As I left, the air behind me felt heavier than ever.
Because no matter her decision…
I'd already broken something I could never fully fix.