Lyra’s POV
I opened my eyes to the sunlight spilling across the bedroom, sharp and bright, blinding for a moment. The curtains weren’t drawn properly. No sign of Lilian. No sign of Lucian. Just me, lying awake in this house that had turned into a prison.
Six months. Six months of being trapped here.
Despite the news we got just last month—Zane’s accident, the report that he was unconscious, the hints that he might not even survive—my parents still insisted I stay here. As though locking me in this house would protect me from the ghost that haunted me, from the questions that never left me.
I hated it. I hated him.
Although Lucian had changed. He woke before me now, always earlier than I expected, and somehow by the time I dragged myself out of bed, he had already cleaned the whole pla
