Morning came grey and quiet, rain tapping soft against the windows of Damien's room.
Odette woke slowly, disoriented for a second by the unfamiliar ceiling, the unfamiliar smell of smoke and clean cotton, before the night before settled back into place — the gate, the argument, the couch too small for his frame.
He was already gone. The blanket folded neat at the end of the couch, a habit she hadn't expected from a man who broke almost every other rule of order in his life. A note on the nightstand beside her, folded the way all his notes were folded, though this one didn't come with a flower.
Board meeting at seven. Wolf drives you to school. Stay where he can see you. — D
No Little Swan this time. No metaphor about roses or thorns or how fierce something graceful could be. Just inst
