Lena’s POV
The alarm blares like a fire siren at 6:30 a.m., yanking me from a dream where Sebastian’s hands were still on my ankle, his breath hot against my skin. I slap the phone silent, groaning as I roll over in the tangled sheets. My ankle throbs—a dull, insistent reminder of yesterday’s chaos—and I peek under the bandage. Purple bruising, swollen like a balloon.
Great. Just great.
I hobble to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and stare at my reflection. Puffy eyes, hair like a bird's nest, and the faint imprint of the couch cushion on my cheek from where I passed out after getting home from Onyx. Avery’s bracelet delivery mission feels like a fever dream now—limping through the alley, her squeals of gratitude, the bass thumping like a second heartbeat.
I pop two ibupr
