The mansion was asleep, swallowed by silence except for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock that read 1:47 AM. Amara lay in bed, eyes wide open, the sheets tangled around her legs. No matter how much she tried to force her mind to settle, the weight of the day's final moment clung to her chest like damp cloth, uncomfortable and suffocating.
Damien had held her hand.
It wasn't the first time they'd shared a moment that hovered somewhere between casual and intimate. But this... this was different. There was intensity in his eyes, an unspoken something that made her stomach twist.
Her hand still tingled from his touch.
She turned over, face buried into her pillow, trying to smother the flutter of her heart. But it wouldn’t go away.
"What was that, Damien?" she whispered into the quiet
