(Elara)
I sat on the edge of the couch, still trying to piece everything together. My hands wouldn't stop shaking no matter how tightly I folded them in my lap.
Damon leaned against the wall across from me. His arms were crossed and his eyes unreadable. The gun was gone now, tucked away somewhere, but I couldn't stop seeing it in his hand. The way he'd moved. The precision and accuracy. The calm.
It haunted me.
"I don't get it," I said finally. "Why would anyone be trying to kill me?"
He exhaled slowly. "It's the same group."
I looked up. "What?"
"The ones from your birthday party," he said. "The gunshots. The messages. It's all connected."
I stared at him, blood draining from my face. "You knew?"
"I suspected," he said. "I didn't have proof until tonight."
A cold, sick feeling s
