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AUTHOR’S POV
Sloane sat curled up on the couch, knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if that could somehow hold her together.
The dim light from the lamp beside her cast long shadows across the living room, giving it a somber, almost eerie feel.
Outside, the wind howled softly, rattling the windows every now and then, but she barely noticed. Her entire focus was on the phone in her trembling hands.
Her screen was lit up, but not with the notification she desperately wanted to see. No missed calls from Damon.
No replies from Darlene. Just a list of messages—sent, read, and ignored.
“Damon, where are you?”
“Please call me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Why aren’t you answering?”
Message after message, a hundred and fifty texts sent in sheer desperat
