AURORA’S POV
I didn’t follow him.
Not physically.
But my mind did.
My breath.
My blood.
Killian’s silhouette had barely disappeared into the dense line of trees, but it lingered—like smoke, like shadow, like something unfinished.
He said I wasn’t like them.
He said I wasn’t like him, either.
So what was I?
The question rattled inside me all evening, echoing with every pulse beneath my skin.
I didn’t have answers, but I had symptoms.
And they were getting worse.
At dinner, the scent of steak—normally my favorite—turned my stomach.
I could smell the iron in it, sharp and metallic, like blood.
I pushed the plate away.
My mom gave me a strange look but didn’t say anything.
I wasn’t ready to explain something I didn’t understand.
I barely touched my food.
I couldn’t slee
