MEGAN’S POV
The night was still. Too still.
Victor had finally gone quiet after pacing the safehouse for what felt like an hour. I heard the soft click of a door closing his bedroom, I assumed. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe in here anymore. Between the suffocating silence, the war outside, and the storm of emotions inside me, I needed to move.
I tiptoed across the floor, grabbing the hoodie Victor had left draped over the back of the couch. I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful; I just couldn’t sit still anymore. I cracked the door open slowly, every nerve screaming that this was a bad idea, but I shoved the feeling down. I needed space, not permission.
The night air bit at my cheeks as I stepped outside, inhaling deeply. It smelled like pine, dirt, and freedom.
I shift
