KILLIAN
I woke to the sound of my own breathing...ragged, sharp, too fast. My chest rose and fell like I had been running for miles, and it took me a second to understand that I was in my room, not on the blood-soaked floor where I’d been standing only moments ago.
The dream still clung to me, sticky as the sweat coating my skin. I could see it even with my eyes wide open—the woman’s body sprawled out in front of me, crimson spreading beneath her like ink bleeding into paper. My hands, my arms, my chest—covered in blood. And I wasn’t trying to stop it. I wasn’t saving her. I was standing there, staring, as if I’d done it.
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, dragging it down over my face until I reached my mouth. My throat was dry, aching, like I’d been screaming. The air in t
