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ELEANOR
I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, the soft sheets rumpled beneath me as I absently traced the pattern of the duvet. My mind was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.
The fear, the invasion of my privacy, the constant sense of being watched—it all felt suffocating, like a dark cloud that refused to lift.
Across the room, Dante and Rhys were locked in conversation, their voices low but intense. Lena sat beside me on the bed, her presence comforting as she listened to the discussion, her brow furrowed in thought.
“We need to draw him out,”
Dante said, his voice steely with determination.
“This can’t keep going on like this. If we’re going to stop him, we need to find a way to force him to make a move.”
My gaze shifted to him, a mix of anxiety
