Under the Veil I Rule (Amara) novel Chapter 400

As Amara spoke, she reached for the door, ready to step inside, but Finnian caught her by the wrist. He looked up at her and asked, his voice rough and hoarse, “Where are you going?”

The sound startled her; she hadn’t expected him to sound so raw, almost broken.

Turning to face him, Amara caught the moonlight streaming through the stairwell window and saw his eyes—they were bloodshot, wild, like some creature lurking in the darkness, waiting to pounce. Goosebumps prickled along her arms. She couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear.

“I haven’t decided exactly where yet,” she managed, trying to keep her tone light, “I just want to travel for a while. Why?”

She knew she was lying, and guilt crept into her voice. She ducked her head, avoiding Finnian’s gaze.

But Finnian wouldn’t let her retreat. He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Why do you want to travel? You’re a young woman, planning to go off for months alone. It isn’t safe.”

His words sparked a flash of anger in Amara. “So what if I’m a woman? Plenty of women travel solo these days. As long as I stay away from dangerous places, I’ll be fine.”

Finnian knew she was right, but the thought of her leaving for months—of not seeing her at all—was unbearable. He’d long since accepted that he was in love with Amara, but he hadn’t realized just how deep that feeling ran, how utterly helpless it made him.

“Could you stay?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with desperate pleading as he gripped her arm.

A surge of sadness swept through Amara. Did Finnian really have the right to ask her to stay? Why would he? He had Liliana now—what business was it of his whether she left or not?

“No,” she said firmly, pushing his hand away.

She leaned against the door, thinking of how Finnian had begged her not to leave. A single tear slid down her cheek, which she wiped away quickly.

Finnian left her apartment in a daze, wandering home like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He went through the motions of washing up, crawling into bed, but when he stared up at the darkness above, sleep refused to come.

He pressed a hand to his chest. His heart still beat steadily beneath his palm, but he felt utterly lifeless, numb to the core. He had hurt before—terribly—but now the pain had hollowed him out, leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

The next morning, Finnian was up before dawn. He drove to Dorian’s place and parked outside, waiting in his car. He didn’t go up right away, just sat there, staring into space.

Finally, around eight-thirty, when he figured Dorian would be awake, Finnian went upstairs and knocked on the door.