BLOODLINE OF THORNS: SHATTERED SILENCE BENEATH THE GILDED ROOF

The explosion tore through the generator house, throwing the third guard clean over the seawall into the churning black water below.

The blast wave knocked Clara flat onto the stone, shielding the incubator pod with her entire torso as heat and burning debris rained down around them.

Julian hauled himself up the cliff stairs, his broken shoulder screaming in agony, dragging his left leg behind him. He hauled his body over the ruined concrete railing onto the smoking platform.

The lighthouse above them went dark, its massive lens shattered by the concussive force. In its place, the burning skeleton of the maintenance shed cast a flickering, hellish glow across the platform.

Evelyn was trapped against the collapsed iron railing of the lookout platform.

Her heavy oilskin coat was smoldering, her manicured hands blistered from the heat. The blast had buckled the concrete beneath her feet; she was teetering precariously over the jagged abyss, where the Atlantic waves pounded against the rocks forty feet below.

She looked at Julian, terror finally stripping away every trace of her aristocratic pride. "Julian! Help me! The railing is giving way!"

Julian limped toward her through the smoke, his face blackened by soot, blood running from his split brow into his mouth.

He reached out his good hand. His fingers brushed against the cuff of her coat.

"Julian, please... I gave you everything!" Evelyn sobbed, her voice trembling with absolute panic. "I gave you an empire! I made you a Sterling!"

Julian stopped. He looked into the eyes of the woman who had stolen him from his birth mother, who had murdered Dr. Vance, who had tried to poison his wife and slaughter his newborn child.

"You didn't make me a Sterling," Julian whispered, his voice steady, cold, and clear over the crackle of the flames. "You made yourself a monster."

Evelyn’s eyes went wide. "Julian—"

The rusted bolts of the safety rail sheared through with a high-pitched metallic shriek.

Julian pulled his hand back.

With a frantic, gasping shriek that was instantly swallowed by the storm, Evelyn Sterling fell backward into the dark, vanishing into the churning white foam of Blackthorn Reef.

Julian didn't look down.

He turned his back on the cliff, falling to his knees beside Clara.

Clara was coughing, her face streaked with soot, but she was alive. Between them, nestled within the clear protective casing of the transport pod, the tiny girl let out her first loud, piercing cry—a sound of pure, unbroken life cutting through the dying embers of the fire.

Julian gently cracked the seal of the pod, lifting his daughter into his arms, wrapping his torn, bloodstained shirt around her fragile body. Clara leaned her head against his chest, their tears mixing with the falling rain.

Across the water, the flashing blue and red lights of a dozen federal law enforcement cruisers and emergency vessels were finally rounding the coastal point, their sirens faint against the wind. The Sterling empire was burning to the ground, but for the first time in their lives, they were standing in the light.

Clara looked up at Julian, her hand resting over the baby’s tiny, beating heart. "What do we call her?"