Clara’s pov
I didn’t plan to write anything.
I was sitting on the floor after my shift, back against the bed, the ache from the morning’s training still sitting in my shoulders, when the heat in my chest rolled hard enough that I had to press my hand over it.
The news about Moonridge’s borders had been looping in my head all day. So had the cold light in the trees.
So had every version of the rejection I’d been carrying since the night Kael said the words in front of the pack.
I grabbed the notebook I used for tip totals, flipped past the columns of numbers, and started writing before I could talk myself out of it.
Kael.
I stopped. Crossed it out hard enough that the pen nearly tore the paper. Started again.
You don’t get to keep writing to me like the rejection was a temporary i
