EMMA
I don’t sleep.
Not really.
I drift in and out of something thin and restless, my body exhausted but my mind wired tight, replaying the forest over and over—the wolf, Damien’s smile, Gabriel’s restraint stretched to the breaking point. Every time I close my eyes, I feel it again: the ground-shaking power Gabriel held back for me, and the cold certainty in Damien’s voice when he said this wasn’t over.
By dawn, I know one thing with brutal clarity.
If I don’t take my life back now, it will be taken for me.
I dress slowly, deliberately. No rushing. No shaking hands. I choose clothes that feel like armor—thick sweater, boots, my coat zipped all the way up. When I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes look different. Harder. Awake.
Enough of being moved around like a piece on someone
