"My vote goes to the Madam."
A satisfied smile settled on Lucian’s face, his expression telling the room they were making the right call.
Amid it all, he felt his throat tighten around an oncoming cough.
As if she sensed it, Ashley took his hand and tugged gently.
"Let’s get out of here," she said — her voice the softest anyone in that room had ever heard from her.
She smiled and nodded at him, unbothered by the people who had no choice but to acknowledge her.
Lucian squeezed her hand. "Mhm."
Ashley held his arm as they moved, ready to support him if needed. But Lucian kept his composure, taking one steady step at a time beside her.
Near the door, Ashley paused. "Hang on," she murmured to him before glancing back.
"Gustav, Lukas." The shift in her tone was sharp enough to make Lukas flinch. "Assist Tank and Vodka. Take our people back and make sure they’re unharmed. If any of them aren’t — deal with whoever’s responsible."
Her eyes moved to two figures among the tactical unit. "Tank, order the others to pull back. Our work here is done."
"Yes, Madam," Tank bowed, and the rest followed.
Ashley nodded, then turned back to Lucian with a small smile. "Let’s go."
The room watched them leave in complete silence. But even before they disappeared from sight, the men Ashley had brought discreetly lifted their eyes to the council members — a quiet, final reminder.
Even Gustav and Lukas found themselves glancing around the table, confirming what they’d just witnessed. The suppressed fury on some faces, the shock and relief on others, told them everything they needed to know.
Lukas exhaled slowly. "Wow."
Because whether anyone wanted to admit it or not, the High Chamber had finally acknowledged Ashley.
With or without Lucian’s appearance, if what he said was true — she had earned her place.
*****
When Ashley and Lucian stepped out of the High Chamber, Khan and the others — Nelek, Warriyo, Rus, Rum — were waiting just outside.
With their help, the couple left the premises quickly. They didn’t fly back immediately, though. Instead, they stopped at a facility within the territory so Lucian could rest.
Now, in a private executive ward, Ashley sat beside the bed while Lucian leaned against the headboard, sleeve rolled up as a nurse administered his medication.
Ashley watched him — not what was being given to him, just him. Since leaving the chamber, she had barely said a word, as though the ability to speak had quietly left her.
Once the nurse finished, she offered Lucian a small smile and slipped out of the room.
Lucian turned to Ashley.
"You’re just staring," he said. "I’m alright."
She didn’t answer.
He reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Did that scare you?"
After all, he had made her one promise: pretend to love her.
She stared down at their joined hands, her lips trembling. "Can you... stop pretending to love me?"
His expression broke. The corners of his eyes reddened.
"Can you just love me for real?" More tears fell onto their hands. "So it’s easier for me to be selfish and ask you not to die."
She nearly choked on the words. "Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave Primo and me."
She drew a shaking breath and lifted her head, her vision rippling. She hadn’t known she was capable of crying this hard — hard enough that she could barely breathe.
"Just stay with us," she hiccuped. "I don’t care about a normal life anymore. That’s pretentious of me anyway — I don’t even know what normal is. I just want you to stay healthy and alive with us. Can’t we just have that?"
Panic surged through Lucian before he could think. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms, his heart hammering, his own shoulders trembling.
Ashley clutched his chest and sobbed.
His brows drew tight. His face twisted in a way he had never felt it twist before.
"I..." he breathed, holding her closer. "...was never pretending."
Everything he had said, everything he had done — and everything he had stopped himself from saying and doing — none of it had ever been an act. Even when he wrapped it in that word and tied it off neatly, none of it was something he had forced himself to feel.
Pretend had only ever been a shield. A flimsy, foolish one he clung to because it was the closest thing he had to saying what he couldn’t bring himself to say.
"None of it was." He tightened his grip on her shoulder, gathering the courage he had spent so long withholding.
"My heart... has always been yours."

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