The city lights outside Elena’s window blurred into streaks of gold and crimson—beautiful, but dizzying. Her reflection in the glass looked like a stranger’s face, pale and tense, eyes caught between guilt and yearning.
Damian’s touch still lingered on her wrist from hours ago, the echo of his warmth burning through her like a forbidden ember. He had said little when he left, but his gaze had promised too much—desire, danger, and something darker she still couldn’t name.
And then there was Lucas.
The thought of him made her chest tighten. He had been her quiet refuge, the one who saw her before Damian’s world had pulled her in. But lately, even Lucas’s kindness felt like a blade—soft, yet cutting her in all the places she tried to keep whole.
She turned away from the window and pressed
