Ayla couldn't sleep.
The silk sheets beneath her were soft, luxurious, the scent of lavender still clinging to the pillows—but none of it could comfort her. Not when the last thing she saw before turning away was Leon's face, standing in the rain, his expression torn apart by betrayal.
Her heart felt heavy—no, broken.
The estate was silent. Not even the guards patrolling outside made noise. She'd been back from the city with Viper for hours, yet her mind hadn't stopped racing.
She turned again in bed, curling her knees to her chest. She had looked Leon in the eye… and walked away.
She had told herself it was for her own protection. For Kalen's safety. For the sake of the answers she thought only Viper could give. But now, all of it felt like excuses. Weak, cowardly excuses.
Viper had been warm, careful, almost fatherly in the way he'd tried to make her comfortable. He had taken her shopping, bought her things she never even imagined owning. Talked to her about Elara like he hadn't loved anyone since. And yet… she couldn't shake the emptiness growing inside her.
She had known Leon's love. Rough, consuming, unrelenting love. The kind that didn't flinch at war or blood or secrets. The kind that would burn the world just to see her safe.
And she left him.
Ayla's throat closed. A sob built in her chest, but she bit it back. No tears. Not now. She didn't deserve to cry—not when he had looked at her like she was his entire world… and she turned her back on him.
"Why did I do that?" she whispered to herself.
She sat up suddenly, pressing her palm to her chest like she could stop her heart from splitting open.
He didn't deserve this.
Leon had fought for her, protected Kalen like his own blood, killed for her, bled for her… and when he needed her to choose him, she hesitated. She faltered.
Her father, a man she barely knew, who had once terrified cities with his name, had shown her softness. But love—real love? That had always been Leon.
She looked around the grand room. Gold-framed paintings. A walk-in closet full of designer clothes. Priceless jewels lying across her vanity. It all felt like a cage now. A beautiful, hollow trap.
She got up and walked to the window. The moonlight spilled over the garden below. Somewhere beyond those walls, Leon was hurting.
And it was her fault.
Ayla pressed her forehead to the cool glass. "I chose wrong," she whispered, voice cracking. "I should've chosen you."
Tomorrow, she would start making it right.
She didn't know how.
But she had to find a way.
She couldn't be the girl who traded love for comfort.
Not anymore.