Talia’s POV
The moon felt colder tonight.
I sat beneath the willow tree behind the hospital with my knees drawn loosely to my chest while winter winds brushed against my skin. The bark at my back felt rough and grounding, but the strange heaviness inside me refused to settle.
Something was wrong.
Not physically.
Not spiritually.
Emotionally.
At least… I thought it was emotional.
It was difficult to tell these days.
I had spent so many years slowly losing pieces of myself through healing that emotions no longer arrived clearly. Most came muted and distant, like echoes traveling through deep water.
But tonight…
Tonight something sharp lingered beneath my ribs.
A strange ache.
A hollow pressure.
And all because of him.
Nixon.
The Madman.
The wolf with violent hands and exhaus
