The night was hell. Absolute, unrelenting hell.
I didn’t sleep a wink—not even close. Part of it was because I was still on edge, my nerves frayed from the whole “Ethan might be a psycho” situation. The other part? I kept expecting him to burst into my room like some deranged horror movie villain. Staring at me from the corner, whispering creepy things like, “There you are, my mate.” Ugh, the thought alone made my skin crawl.
I lay there, eyes wide open, every creak of the house sending my imagination spiraling. Was that the wind, or was Ethan scaling the wall outside my window? Was that the fridge humming, or was he lurking in the hallway? By the time the first rays of sunlight crept through my curtains, I was half-convinced I was losing my mind.
“Okay, Camila, get it together,” I m
