Aveline
The air in Matteo’s study was thick with the scent of old paper, expensive bourbon, and the electric charge of a storm about to break. We had just survived the gas—Kai had managed to trigger the emergency ventilation before we lost consciousness—but the revelation of the journal had left us both frayed, raw, and bleeding in ways that weren't physical.
"You knew," Matteo growled, pacing the length of the room like a caged beast. He slammed his hand onto the surface of his heavy oak desk, making the crystal decanter rattle. "You’ve had that journal for years, Aveline. You let me treat you like a prisoner, let me look at you with nothing but loathing, while you held the truth in your hands."
"I was a child when I found it!" I screamed back, my voice cracking as I stood on the other
