Clara stayed hunched over the counter for a moment, catching her breath, her hands gripping the cool edge like it might hold her together. The bathroom was quiet again—except for the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat and the fading sound of Silas adjusting his clothes behind her.
Reality came crashing in fast.
What just happened?
She stood up slowly, pulling the towel back over herself, eyes darting to the mirror. Her reflection looked the same, but she didn’t feel the same. Her legs trembled slightly beneath her, not just from the physical rush—but from the whirlwind spinning in her chest.
First Dante. Then Kai.
Now Silas?
What was she doing?
She turned around, and Silas was standing there, watching her silently. No smirk, no cocky comment—just steady, unreadable eyes.
“Clara…” he beg
