Page 81 of King

The night stretched on in easy conversation and laughter, the warmth of full bellies and good company making the world outside feel far away.

Amara had to admit that Sid’s cooking was incredible. Every bite had been a burst of flavor, the kind of meal that made you feel at home, even if you weren’t. Now, with her stomach so full it ached, her body felt heavy, satisfied, and sluggish. It was the kind of comfortable tiredness that made her want to curl up somewhere soft and drift into sleep.

She smiled as she listened to the women talk, soaking in the feeling of belonging, something she hadn’t realized she craved until now.

“Tessa said you were a photographer,” Lacey said, drawing Amara’s attention.

Lacey was stunning. All the women were beautiful, but Lacey had a classic beauty that was matched by her personality. Amarahad learned over the course of dinner that her mate was Viktor. And the two of them together...wow. They looked like they belonged on a movie poster or like one of those couples that made you believe in fairy tales.

“I am,” Amara smiled at her trying not to stare like a weirdo.

“What do you photograph?” Lacey asked, her expression genuinely curious.

“Everything,” Amara admitted with a laugh. “But to pay the bills, I’ve done weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries—basically whatever keeps the lights on.” She shrugged. “Every once in a while, I take a picture that a magazine wants to buy. I’ve finally made a name for myself, so now I get calls for specific projects.”

“That’s amazing,” Lacey said with a warm smile.

“I took photography in high school and loved it,” Becky chimed in. She had a bright, engaging energy, and Amara liked her instantly. “I thought I’d go further with it, maybe make it my career.”

Amara tilted her head, intrigued. “Why didn’t you?” Her gaze flickered to Sloan instinctively before shifting back to Becky. It was impossible not to wonder what it was like to be his Mate. Sloan Murphy had a presence that was powerful, commanding, and intense. But Becky? She had a quiet strength in her that made perfect sense how she and Sloan worked together.

Becky’s lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Unprotected sex,” she said, then chuckled. “Which, honestly, gave me my greatest blessing...my son, Frankie. But it also put a pause on a lot of my girlhood dreams.”

Something about the way she said it—so blunt, yet filled with love made Amara smile. “It’s never too late to pick up the camera,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

Becky nodded, but Amara noticed a sudden sadness that filled her eyes before her attention was pulled away to someone else.

“What do you like to photograph the most?” Nicole asked, curiosity in her voice.

Amara didn’t even have to think about it. “People.”

She saw the interest spark in Nicole’s eyes, so she continued.

“A single picture of someone can tell you so much about their life story, their emotions, even the things they try to hide.” She let out a small breath, her fingers instinctively itching for her camera. “If you look hard enough, you can see them, really see them, in a way words can’t always capture.”

A brief silence settled over the group. Then Lacey smiled. “That’s beautiful.”

“She’s done nudes for a paycheck, too.”

The voice froze her in place. It wasn’t just any voice. It was her brother’s. Her stomach dropped. The room seemed to shift as conversations around her faded. Every muscle in her body went rigid, her heart hammering against her ribs.

No. It wasn’t possible.

“Oh, shit,” Caroline’s voice cut through the stunned silence. She shot up so fast that her chair scraped against the floor. “Lana!”

As she turned, Amara barely registered what was happening, her breath lodged in her throat. Lana sat next to her, completely calm, wearing a knowing grin. But as Amara stared, horrorspreading through her veins, that grin became something else—something familiar.

“Hello, sister.” The words came from Lana’s mouth but the voice was Lee’s voice.

Amara’s breath hitched violently. Her vision blurred, her world tilting. No. No. No. She was losing her mind. This couldn’t be. She jerked back so hard that her chair tipped.

The crash of wood against the floor barely registered as pain shot through her elbow, but Amara didn’t stop moving. She scrambled back, crab-crawling away from Lana her hands slipping against the polished wood. Her chest heaved, her breaths sharp and uneven. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her heart was pounding so fast, too fast, as if it were trying to escape her ribcage.

Lana—or whatever this was—stayed perfectly still, watching her. Amara could hear voices, but she couldn’t comprehend anything as her pulse roared in her ears. Her mind screamed at her to wake up, that this had to be some kind of horrible trick.

It wasn’t possible. Lee was dead. Her entire body shook as she stared at Lana, her vision tunneling.

“Amara!” King’s voice broke through the roaring in her ears, cutting through the panic like a blade. Warm hands cupped her face. “Look at me,” he urged, forcing her eyes to his.

---