[ELARA'S POV]
We went to the cellar the next morning.
Damian moved slowly. Still healing. But determined. Marcus followed three steps behind. Silent. Armed. Just in case.
Marguerite met us at the cellar door. She looked at Damian for a long moment. Something passed between them. Some understanding I wasn't part of.
Then she handed him the key.
"Are you certain?" Her voice was soft. Careful.
"Yes."
"This cannot be undone."
"I know." He unlocked the door. "That's the point."
She nodded once. Stepped aside.
We descended into the cold stone space. The same vault where we'd had desperate sex weeks ago. Where Damian had broken down and promised to burn it all.
Now we were actually doing it.
The crown sat behind its glass case. Gold and dark with age. Rubies catching the dim light.
It looked smaller than I remembered. Less powerful. Just an old piece of metal that had caused too much pain.
Damian stood in front of it. Staring. His jaw tight.
I took his hand. Squeezed.
