Sammi’s POV
After I sent the message to Willow, Grayson silently guided me upstairs into the art studio. Confusion clouded my mind as I stood in the doorway, trying to figure out why we were here. He moved around the room, eyes sweeping over the dark and heavy atmosphere that filled it. Everything was somber, gloomy, lacking the vibrancy I once infused into my art.
He remained quiet, seemingly lost in thought as he examined each piece. The silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable, only adding to my confusion. There wasn’t a single splash of color in the room, just dark, moody, depressing hues. Maybe I had slipped, after all.
“How’s your art going, Angel?” he asked suddenly, stopping in front of a painting, his eyes locking onto it before briefly flickering toward me.
My throat
