The night was thick with rain, washing the compound in silver and shadow. Ayla stood in the tower window, watching the storm rage, her fingers curled tight around the windowsill. Beneath her, the compound slept.
Or so Luca thought.
Tonight, Ayla promised herself. Tonight, we stop hiding.
---
In the tunnels beneath the fortress, Mira waited. A dozen figures stood with her—ghosts of Luca's cruelty. Scarred faces. Broken bodies. But their eyes—oh, their eyes burned with hunger for vengeance.
Ayla slipped into the tunnel entrance, rain dripping from her cloak. The storm muffled all sound above.
Mira's voice trembled, but it was fierce. "They're ready. What's your command, my queen?"
Ayla drew a breath that tasted of earth and fury.
"We hit the armory first. We take what we need. Then we light the east wing. Let Luca's house burn while he sleeps in it."
Gasps. Then nods.
"Show no mercy," Ayla added, her voice steel. "We burn this kingdom of his to ash."
---
