The cold glass of the downtown hotel room pressed against Elena’s forehead, but she didn't feel the chill. Her silver eyes tracked the tiny, insect-like movements of the black cars navigating the wet streets fifty floors below.
Tomorrow, she would formally step into the city council chambers. Tomorrow, the name Vance Global Holdings would snap like a trap around Julian’s throat. But tonight, as the city rain smeared the high glass windows into streaks of grey grease, her mind drifted backward. The high-end white business suit she wore felt like a heavy piece of armor, a stark contrast to the skin and mud that had shaped her for seven years.
Seven years did not just pass. They had to be carved out of the black marrow of the Whispering Woods, one agonizing memory at a time.
The first win
