Shirley
The silence in my apartment was suffocating.
Even with the windows cracked open and the fan humming on low, the air felt thick—like I was trapped in a room that used to belong to someone else. Maybe I was. Maybe I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
The events of the past twenty-four hours kept replaying in my mind on an endless, bitter loop.
Asher and Dante.
Their fight.
The fury in their eyes.
The way they acted like I was some prize to be fought over.
And the way I’d stood in the middle, screaming for them to stop, heart breaking and pulse rising like something primal was trying to claw out of me.
I pressed my fingers to my neck.
The rune.
It was still there. Still warm. Still humming.
Especially when I was angry… or scared… or confused.
It reacted to me. Like it was
