SLOANE
Sleep was a joke at this point. I'd been staring at the ceiling of the guest room for what felt like forever, listening to the mansion breathe around me, every creak and settle of the old building sounding louder than it should in the dark. It was past three in the morning and my brain refused to shut down, refused to stop replaying the whole disaster of the last twenty-four hours on a loop I couldn't escape no matter how many times I turned over or pulled the blanket over my head.
I gave up around three fifteen and slipped out of bed.
I was in an oversized white tee and sleep shorts I'd borrowed from Riley, my hair loose and slightly tangled from tossing around, my feet bare on the cold hallway floor as I made my way quietly toward Cade's room. The mansion hallway was dim, just
