Chase’s POV
The northern perimeter stretched like a scar across the estate’s edge—old fence posts still standing from Markus’s time, now reinforced with steel plating and razor wire that caught the late-afternoon sun in cold silver flashes. I walked it slowly beside Amelia, one crutch under each arm, the brace locked straight beneath my jeans. Every step sent a dull throb up my thigh, but I welcomed it. Pain meant I was still moving. Still here.
She walked at my pace—never ahead, never behind. Equal. Her hand rested lightly on my forearm when the ground grew uneven. She didn’t comment on the limp. She never did anymore.
We stopped first at the old oak that marked the northwest corner.
“Remember this tree?” she asked.
I looked up. The lowest branch still bore the faint scar where I’d o
