Reya’s POV
The door clicked shut behind me, and it felt like the sound ricocheted inside my skull.
For a long moment, I stood with my back pressed to it, my fingers still curled around the knob as though Lucien might change his mind and walk right back in. My breathing came in shallow pulls. My palms were damp.
The name sat heavy in my ears, echoing like someone had whispered it down a long hallway.
Reya.
No one had called me that in years. Not here. Not in this life I’d built brick by brick, lie by careful lie.
I pushed away from the door, needing to move, needing space, but the cabin gave me none. The small square of the living room felt even smaller now, the walls too close, the lamplight too warm and bright on my skin. My towel-damp hair clung to my neck. The faint scent of soap
