Gustave Mackenzie's POV
When I woke up, emptiness was the first thing that enveloped me. Bianca was gone. Yet, her essence refused to leave: the scent of her hair lingered on my pillow.
I closed my eyes and saw no ghosts. For the first time in years, I saw calm. I had spent entire nights battling my demons, but sleeping next to her… was the deepest, most peaceful sleep, almost an insult to all my sleepless nights.
The image of Bianca breaking down as she confessed her story lodged itself in my mind like a splinter impossible to remove. It wasn't pity I felt. It was something rawer, more dangerous. A visceral urge to hold her, to stop her from crumbling any further, to pull her away from everything that was consuming her… even if it meant plunging into her personal hell.
She needed
