Nyx didn't speak for three days.
Not a word. Not a sound. She ate when we put food in front of her. She slept when exhaustion finally dragged her down. She moved through the mansion like a ghost—quiet, empty, barely there.
The first night back, I tried to hold her. She flinched so hard she almost fell off the bed. I backed away with my hands up, my heart cracking open.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I won't touch you unless you want me to."
She didn't answer. She just curled into a ball on the far side of the bed and stared at the wall.
---
Damien was worse.
He couldn't look at her without his face going dark with guilt. He'd stand in doorways, watching her, his hands clenched at his sides. I caught him once in the hallway, his forehead pressed to the wall, his shoulders shak
