The car ride was silent except for the low hum of the engine. Not even the distant honking of the city managed to cut through the suffocating tension inside the vehicle. Elena sat rigid in the leather seat, her fingers curled so tightly into her palms that her nails broke skin. She didn’t even feel the sting. All she felt was the echo of Damian’s voice calling her name, the image of his blood staining her hands, and the hollow ache in her chest where her heart used to sit.
Adrian sat beside her, calm and composed, as if he were merely returning from a business meeting. His cologne, sharp, expensive, suffocating, wrapped around her like invisible chains. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. His silence was a weapon, one he wielded with precision. He wanted her to think. To drown in her
