Lyra
Sleep refused to come that night.
Every time I shut my eyes, the tattooed man’s face appeared — his sharp gaze, the faint, evil smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the way he had been so close to me, and the things he’d done.
The memories chafed at me, and no matter how many times I tried to push him from my mind, he slipped back in with maddening persistence.
But it wasn’t just those memories that bothered me. It was that potion. I still remembered the exact moment he rummaged through his pocket, searching for that bottle. Then he’d drunk the entire liquid in one smooth gulp… and all of a sudden, strange things began to happen.
To him. To Liam. To me, even.
A part of me, unwilling as it was, wondered if the potion had somehow seeped into me. Maybe it was the reason for my
