A D R I A N
The photo burns behind my eyes long after the screen goes dark.
The sound in the room isn’t Elara’s breath anymore, it’s the buzz of a thousand phones lighting up across the island. The PR storm has already broken; I can feel it through the walls like thunder.
Ethan’s still by the door, jaw tight. “They’re running it on every feed. The island’s tagged in three languages already. Comments are brutal.”
Elara doesn’t speak. She’s standing, trembling but upright, the glow from the monitor painting her skin in blue light. Her pulse flutters at her throat, fast and terrified, but her spine doesn’t bend.
I want to pull her back into my arms and hide her there.
Instead, I take the phone from Ethan, scroll through the headline again. Secret Lovers in the Wreckers’ Cave. The shot i
