Lena's POV
The room felt smaller the longer Mr. Hawthorne stared at me. The moonlight from the window cut across his face, and even though he looked calm, something in his eyes kept my heart racing. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to stop the cold from crawling up my spine.
“What does that mean?” I whispered. “Stay alive? Why would you say something like that?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, like he was choosing his words very carefully before speaking.
“You’re in the middle of something you don’t understand,” he finally said. “Something dangerous. Something that doesn’t care if you’re ready or not.”
“I didn’t ask to be in the middle of anything,” I shot back. My voice shook, but
