The large window behind the mahogany desk reflected the silhouettes of two figures—Hunter and Amara—standing face to face. The warm scent of untouched coffee from the cup on the table contrasted sharply with the tension hanging in the air.

“So this is what you want?” Hunter spoke first. His voice held exhaustion, but also a firm edge. “To marry me... as some form of redemption?”

Amara gave a faint smile—not one of joy, but a sharp smile laced with pain and vengeance. “Not just redemption, Hunter. Responsibility.”

Hunter rubbed his temples, trying to process the sudden turn of the conversation that now felt like a ticking time bomb. “I don’t...