At 3 a.m., a shrill ringtone jolted me awake. Groggy, I squinted at my phone: a text from Dominic's brother with an address and a short note.
"Dominic's plastered. Clara, come pick him up."
Muscle memory kicked in. I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the address—a hotel. The half-open door sent a chill of dread through me.
When I pushed it open, my heart sank. Aurora was perched on Dominic's lap, her clothes a mess, her fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons. His neck was littered with glaring red marks, his face flushed unnaturally, eyes unfocused. He'd clearly been drugged.
Aurora's panicked glance gave her away. She'd set this up.
Rage surged through me. I stormed over, shoving her to the floor.
She scrambled up, spitting venom. Before she could get a word out, I fixed her
