Freya lay in bed that night, her gaze fixed on the darkness above. The events of the night replayed in her mind, haunting her like whispers from a nightmare. Her father’s words, filled with cold certainty, echoed in her head, each one more chilling than the last. Emilia was no stranger to her anymore—Freya had always admired her resilience, and lately, they’d shared glances and nods that felt like the beginnings of trust. But tonight’s meeting had shifted everything, and Freya felt trapped between her loyalty to her family and the moral weight of protecting an innocent life.

It’s wrong, she thought, gripping her sheets. What they’re planning... It’s wrong....