The scream woke her at 3:47 a.m.
Low, guttural, not animal—but not quite human either.
Emerie sat up in bed, heart hammering.
Another shout—muffled, raw.
She slipped out into the hallway.
The guards weren't at their usual post.
Her bare feet moved silently over the marble floor.
Down the hall.
A door stood slightly ajar.
She paused.
Then pushed.
Antony was crouched in the corner of his bedroom, shirtless, drenched in sweat, hands over his ears.
He didn't notice her at first.
“Antony?"
He jerked.
His eyes—wild, lost—locked on her like he didn't recognize her.
She stepped forward carefully. “It's just me."
He blinked hard.
His breath slowed.
“I'm sorry," he rasped. “I—"
“It's okay."
He pressed his back against the wall. “I saw fire. In my head. I was back in that cell. T
