The next morning, Ava stood in front of the office building, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady the erratic rhythm of her heart. A restless night did nothing to clear the storm in her mind. Damon wasn’t stupid. If she kept acting strange, he would figure out something was wrong.
And she couldn’t let that happen.
She squared her shoulders, smoothing the front of her blouse, and stepped inside. The familiar hum of office chatter greeted her, but it felt distant, as though she were hearing it from underwater. Her mind was still trapped in the assembly hall, haunted by the list of names—by his name.
“Ava?”
She jolted at the sound, spinning to find Rachel watching her with a raised brow.
“You okay? You’ve been zoning out
