EMMA
The lock clicks.
It’s a small sound. Almost polite.
It lands in my chest like a gunshot.
I don’t move at first. I don’t scream. I don’t even breathe properly. My body goes cold and hot at the same time, every nerve screaming now now now while my mind stalls like it’s hit ice.
Damien turns the key slowly, deliberately, then slips it into his pocket.
The smile he gives me is wrong. Not cruel yet. Not angry.
Certain.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says calmly. “You’re overwhelmed. That place did that to you.”
My back hits the door instinctively, palms flat against the wood as if I can push through it by will alone. “Unlock it.”
“Emma—”
“Unlock. The. Door.”
His jaw tightens. There it is. The fracture in the mask.
“You always did this,” he snaps. “The dramatics. Running ins
