By the time Freya’s breathing steadied, her mind was still a battlefield. She couldn’t stay—not in the company, not where the walls seemed to whisper Orion’s name, not where the ghost of her lingered like a taunt.
So she slipped out, unseen, a shadow fleeing from herself.
She didn’t know where she was going. She just needed to run—not from Orion, but from the storm inside her.
The city blurred past her, lights smearing into streaks of gold and neon. Her feet carried her without thought, without direction, until the sharp tang of salt stung her nostrils, and the rhythmic crash of waves filled her ears.
She stopped, blinking at the dark expanse of water, the distant flicker of boat lights like fallen stars.
"Miss Freya?"
The voice cut through her daze, smooth and familiar. Sh
