SONYA'S POV
Phoebe is passed out on my bed, surrounded by empty taco wrappers and her phone, when someone knocks on my door at two in the morning, dragging me out of sleep.
I consider ignoring it. But the knock comes again, more insistent.
"Sonya." It's Reign's voice. "I need to talk to you. It's important."
"Go away, Reign."
"It's about Vanessa. About Elara's death." There's a pause. "Please."
Damn it.
I swing my legs off the bed, cross the room, and unlock the door, opening it just enough to glare at him. “What?”
Reign looks rough. His hair is disheveled like he's been running his hands through it, his shirt is untucked, and his eyes are bloodshot. But there's also something else there, determination mixed with barely controlled rage.
"Can I come in?"
“My best friend's sleeping
