The road to the northern border stretched through miles of emptiness dark forests on one side, quiet open fields on the other. The sky above was beginning to pale, just the faintest touch of blue behind the clouds hinting that dawn was creeping closer.
Amira sat in the passenger seat, staring ahead, fingers clasped tightly together. She wasn't cold, but her body trembled anyway. Not from fear at least, she refused to call it that. It was something else. Something harder. Something that settled deep in her chest like a stone.
The sleepless man drove with both hands on the wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the road as if he knew this drive too well. Every few minutes he would glance at the rearview mirror, checking the empty road behind them but it never felt like he was checking for cars.
More like checking for ghosts.
"We're close," he said finally.
"How close?"
"Another twenty minutes. Maybe less."
She inhaled slowly through her nose. The windows were fogging at the corners, not from temperature but from the weight inside the car. Dead silence. Heavy thoughts. A truth no one wanted to speak out loud.
They were heading toward The Regent's first kingdom.
Leonardo's childhood home.
The place that carved the man she loved and broke the boy he once was.
She imagined him walking toward it alone, shoulders tense, eyes cold, pretending he wasn't afraid. Pretending the memories screaming inside him weren't real.
She whispered, "Why is he going back there?"
The driver didn't look at her.
"Because he has no choice."
"That doesn't explain anything."
He loosened one hand from the wheel, rubbed his face, then tightened his grip again.
"There's something you need to understand," he said quietly. "The Regent doesn't send threats. He sends invitations. And Leonardo Leonardo knows what happens if he ignores one."
A chill slid down her back.
"What happens?"
The man glanced at her, his eyes hollow.
"People die."
The car fell silent again.
Amira turned her face back toward the window, her breath fogging the glass. The clouds overhead were thinning, letting a faint streak of silver seep through. Morning was close.
Closer than Leonardo.
Closer than any warning could prepare her for.
"What kind of place is this?" she asked. "This house we're going to."
The man hesitated a moment too long.
"It's not a house," he said finally. "It looks like one. It feels like one. But it isn't."
She frowned. "Then what is it?"
"A training ground," he said. "A prison. A shrine. Depends on who you ask." His voice dropped lower. "But to Leonardo… it is the graveyard of his brother."
The air thickened.
Her breath froze.
She didn't ask another question.
She didn't need to.
Everything inside her already hurt.
They reached the border just as a faint pink streak appeared across the sky.
A cluster of tall trees marked the edge of the estate. A narrow, old stone road led deeper into the forest, winding through thick shadows and tall black pines that seemed to lean toward the car as it passed.
When the mansion finally came into view, Amira felt her heartbeat stutter.
It wasn't what she expected.
She thought The Regent's estate would be brutal and sharp cold steel, stone walls, something that screamed danger.
But it didn't.
It looked peaceful.
A large manor house with tall windows, ivy crawling up the stone walls, a quiet courtyard, and a long balcony overlooking the valley. Morning light washed over it like soft gold.
But the peace was a lie.
She felt it instantly an undercurrent in the air, a tension woven into the ground itself. A heaviness that said:
Leave.
Turn back.
You don't belong here.
The driver parked the car at the edge of the courtyard but didn't move. He sat there, shoulders rigid, staring at the house as if it was swallowing him whole.
Amira placed a hand on the door handle.
He caught her wrist suddenly.
"Listen," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Whatever happens inside that house do not make the mistake of thinking love will save him."
Her breath tightened.
"I didn't come here to save him," she said. "I came here to remind him he's not alone."
The man's jaw clenched.
"Same thing," he muttered. "And it never ends well."
She didn't argue.
She opened the door and stepped out.
The courtyard stones were cracked in several places, as if something heavy something violent had struck them years ago. The air was cold, colder than the rest of the forest, like the house itself exhaled frost.
The sleepless man joined her reluctantly, his eyes scanning the windows.
"No guards?" she whispered.
"There are guards," he said. "You just can't see them."
A shiver crawled down her spine.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"Inside."
"How do you know?"
The man didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
She felt it too.
An invisible pull.
A tension stretching between her and the house like a wire drawn too tight.
Leonardo was inside.
Breaking.
Fighting.
Or remembering.
None of the three were safe.
She stepped forward
and the front door opened before she reached the steps.
A tall man stepped out.
Not The Regent.
Younger. Cold. Dressed in a black suit that fit him stiffly, like he had been sewn into it.
He looked at her first.
Then at the sleepless man.
"The Regent knew you'd come," he said.
Amira lifted her chin. "Then take me to him."
The man didn't move aside.
"No," he said. "You're not here for The Regent."
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
The man stepped down one stair.
"You're here for Leonardo."
Her heart tripped.
"Is he inside?"
"Yes."
"Then move."
The man didn't.
"You need to understand something before you enter," he said. "Leonardo didn't come here for a reunion. He didn't come here for answers. He came here" He paused, eyes narrowing. "to pay a debt."
"What debt?" she breathed.
The man's silence was enough.
"Let me in," she said softly.
The man stepped aside at last.
"But don't say I didn't warn you."
Inside, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No sound.
The hallway stretched long and narrow, lined with framed photographs black and white images of two boys.
One older, dark-haired, serious.
One younger, smiling, eyes bright.
Leonardo.
And his brother.
Her chest squeezed painfully.
She studied the younger boy's face.
The innocence.
The hope.
Gone.
Because of this place.
Because of what the Syndicate did.
Because of the father who should have protected him.
She touched the corner of the frame gently.
Then moved on.
The sleepless man walked behind her, his steps slower, heavier. As if each portrait they passed added another weight to his shoulders.
At the end of the hallway was a wooden door.
Old.
Scratched.
Faint marks along the frame like nails dragged across it.
"This is it," the man whispered.
Amira reached for the door.
"Wait," he said.
She paused.
"When you see him he won't be the man you remember. This place tears him open. You need to be ready for that."
She nodded once.
And opened the door.
The room on the other side was dark, lit only by the light crawling through the large window. Dust floated in the air. Old training equipment lined the walls weights, handwraps, a punching bag torn open and leaking sand.
But the thing she noticed first wasn't the equipment.
It was the silence.
The thick, suffocating silence.
Then she saw him.
Leonardo stood near the far wall, back turned to her. His shoulders were rigid. His hands were wrapped, blood seeping through the bandages and dripping onto the floor.
Her heart lurched.
"Leonardo…"
He didn't turn.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
She stepped forward slowly.
"Leonardo," she whispered again.
This time, his head tilted slightly barely but enough to break her heart.
"Amira," he said quietly. His voice was sandpaper. Raw. Strained. "You shouldn't be here."
She swallowed the ache forming in her throat.
"Then tell me to leave," she said. "And I will."
He didn't turn around.
He didn't tell her to leave.
"Why are you here?" he asked softly.
"You know why."
He exhaled slowly. The sound was broken.
"This place isn't safe."
"I don't care."
"You should."
"I don't."
He finally turned.
And the sight of him nearly brought her to her knees.
His eyes were hollow like all the light had been scraped out of them. His face was cut at the cheekbone, lips bruised, jaw set in the same stubborn way she loved but now sharpened by pain.
"You look like you fought the walls," she whispered.
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because they don't hit back," he said quietly. "Not like he does."
Her blood chilled.
"He's here?" she whispered.
"No," Leonardo said. "But his shadow is."
She stepped toward him.
He stepped back.
"Don't," he said firmly.
"Why?"
"Because if you touch me right now," he said, eyes trembling for the first time, "I won't be able to send you away."
"And I'm not leaving until you do."
He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.
"Amira… you don't understand. The Regent knows about you now."
"Good."
"No," he snapped. "Not good. Not for you. Not for anyone you care about."
She didn't flinch.
"You keep saying that," she said. "But I'm still here."
His jaw clenched.
"You're here because you don't understand who I am."
"No," she said softly. "I'm here because I do."
He shook his head, turning away again.
"You know pieces. Fragments. Not the whole."
"Then show me."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because the whole thing is ugly," he whispered. "And dangerous. And soaked in blood."
"Yours," she said. "Your brother's. Maybe even your father's. But not mine."
He punched the wall suddenly.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the room.
Blood smeared the stone.
"Don't say his name."
"Which?" she asked gently. "Your brother's? Or your father's?"
Silence crashed.
Then he whispered, "Both."
She stepped closer again.
He didn't move this time.
"Leonardo," she said quietly, "what debt are you here to pay?"
He laughed.
A sad, broken sound.
"Everything," he whispered. "Everything he took from me. Everything he took from my brother. Everything I couldn't save."
His hands shook.
"Leonardo"
"This house made me," he said. "And then it destroyed him."
A breath.
"And now it wants to destroy you."
She touched his hand gently.
He didn't pull away.
"Then let it try," she whispered. "Because I'm not letting you face it alone."
His breath shuddered. He stared at her like she was the first warm thing in a frozen world.
Then he whispered, "Amira… he's coming."
"Your father?"
He nodded once.
"When?"
Leonardo swallowed hard.
"At dawn."
Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs.
"And what happens when he gets here?" she asked.
Leonardo lifted his gaze dark, haunted, terrified for the first time.
"He takes back everything he thinks belongs to him."
He stepped closer.
"Which includes me."
Her breath broke.
"And if I refuse?" she asked.
Leonardo's throat worked.
"Then he will break you," he whispered. "And force me to watch."
The dawn light crept into the room slowly, painting the floor in pale gold.
Leonardo lowered his head, voice shaking.
"Amira, please you need to leave."
She touched his cheek.
Finally.
He didn't pull away.
He leaned into it.
"I'm only leaving," she whispered, "if you walk out with me."
His eyes closed.
"I can't."
"You can."
"I shouldn't."
"You have to."
Silence.
Long.
Painful.
Then
The floorboards creaked in the hallway.
Leonardo's eyes snapped open.
His body went rigid.
"He's here."
Amira turned toward the door.
But Leonardo grabbed her hand.
Tight.
Stronger than he ever had.
His voice was barely a breath:
"Don't let go."