Emily’s POV
Chapter: Not One of Them
The air smelled like pine needles and espresso—fresh and oddly comforting, considering I was half-dead just a week ago.
We were sitting outside a small café tucked behind a row of brick buildings, the kind of place you’d only find if you were lost or looking for something quiet. The cobblestones under our feet were cracked, worn down by years of careless footsteps. Zariah sat across from me, sipping something iced and overly sweet, while Dalton leaned back in his chair beside me, arms crossed like he was guarding me from the entire universe.
He always sat like that—casual, protective, silent.
“You sure you’re okay?” Dalton asked for maybe the third time that morning, voice low, almost annoyed. “You still look like death’s second cousin.”
“I’m fine
