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AUTHOR’S POV
The dim light of the television flickered softly across the room, casting shifting shadows against the walls.
The low murmur of the movie played in the background, but neither Sloane nor Vivian was really paying attention to it.
The night outside was quiet, but inside, a storm of emotions stirred between them.
Sloane was curled up against Vivian, her body partially draped over her as she held her close. The weight of exhaustion clung to her, evident in the way her shoulders sagged and how she burrowed deeper into her warmth.
The past few nights had been rough—too many hours spent fighting sleep, too many times waking up breathless, drenched in cold sweat, and trembling from nightmares she couldn’t escape.
Vincein had noticed. Of course, he had. He always did.
