Ziva's hands tightened around Landor's arm, as if anchoring him. Her eyes glistened with tears, but there was a softness too—a quiet contentment when she glanced at her husband.
Landor took a cautious step forward, though he kept a respectful distance. "Netser… I married her not out of convenience, not out of obligation or guilt but because I love her. And because…" His voice dipped, lower, steadier. "…because I could not bear the thought of someone plotting to harm her again. I wanted o give her safety. A home. Someone who would stand by her no matter what dangers come."
Netser's fists remained clenched. He could still feel the heat of that fire licking at his memories, still hear Ziva's screams, still see the collapsing beams and the towering wall of flames that had stolen half of his world. He had carried that moment like a curse, convinced that his family had perished from the sword and the fire.
Now, everything he believed was unraveling.
