Dorian
Dorian couldn’t sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares came—her voice, cold and trembling, slicing through the darkness.
“I will never be yours. I’d rather die. You’re a monster.”
He stared at the clock. Nearly nine.
He called Sam.
“Morning. How’s Clara? Did she leave for college yet?”
“Nope. She hasn’t come out,” Sam replied.
“Okay. Drive her yourself when she does. It’ll be better that way.”
“Got it,” Sam said.
“Keep following her. I’ve got things to take care of today. I’ll be back in the evening.”
“Don’t worry, boss. Your little golden fish isn’t swimming away from my hook.”
“I’m counting on you as I would on myself.”
Then he called Clara. She didn’t pick up right away.
“Clara, sunshine, are you alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Yes,
