Their lovemaking was a tempest, a raw, desperate surge of pleasure that shattered any pretense of quiet. Exhausted, bruised, and haunted by unspoken fears, they clung to each other, this moment as vital as breath, as necessary as a beating heart. Like a wildfire, their passion ignited, consuming them entirely.

  The specter of Will’s illusory death in the Spider Queen’s lair clung to Maya, a cruel trick that felt agonizingly real. It lodged within her, a jagged, immovable stone. Even now, the raw panic simmered beneath her skin, a constant, chilling reminder of near loss.

  The wrenching fear returned whenever Will was absent, stealing her breath, clawing at her thoughts. The illusion replayed, weaving itself into the dark corner of her soul where Jerod’s death resided. Both losses, one real, one false, haunted her with unyielding ferocity.

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  But here, now, she clung to him. Her body moved against his, a desperate rhythm of survival. She moaned—not just from pleasure but from sheer, overwhelming relief. He was here, alive, whole. Her hands traced his skin, memorizing every contour as if he might vanish if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

  She vowed never to let go. Whatever darkness lay ahead, they would face it together. The pain of the past would no longer divide them. They would not turn away from each other or from the future.

  And in that vow, a flicker of hope, long dormant, ignited within Maya.