Fiore woke up alone, the cold sheets clinging to her skin. Dominic’s words echoed in her mind, pressing at her relentlessly.
Her limbs felt heavy, her body still weak, but the pull to see Lance was stronger than her fatigue. She couldn’t lie in this bed any longer, haunted by half-formed thoughts and unanswered questions. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her muscles protesting with every movement. She steadied herself, the chill of the floor biting into her feet, grounding her in reality.
The hallways were eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that crawled under your skin. No whispers, no footsteps, just the distant hum of something unseen, making her feel like she was the last soul wandering these halls.
Where is everyone? Fiore wondered, her steps slow and deliberate.
