Lara woke with a sharp inhale.
Her sheets were twisted around her legs. Her pulse thudded violently against her ribs. For a second, she didn't know where she was.
It wasn't the usual scenes she dreamt about. No throne rooms. No crowns. No blood-soaked battlefields.
This time, the nightmare had been strange. About a baby.
She pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to hold onto it — to force the fragments back into place.
But there was nothing.
The images dissolved like smoke the moment she opened her eyes.
All that remained was a lingering heavy dread.
Her gaze drifted to the wall. To the photograph.
The one-year-old girl smiled back at her, two front teeth showing — frozen in time, bright-eyed, untouched by whatever fate had erased her.
Lara sat up slowly. The room was still washed in the pale gold of early dawn. The mansion was silent.
She picked up her phone.
For a long moment, she just stared at the screen.
