Something felt off today. Wrong in that way Elvira had learned to trust over the years, like static before a storm or the way animals go quiet when death walks near. She stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of Jared's penthouse, watching San Francisco spread out below like a glittering wound, all those lights bleeding into the fog.
The city had changed since she'd been gone. Or maybe she had.
"Babe?" Jared's voice carried from the bedroom, warm and rough with sleep. "You good?"
She didn't answer right away, letting her fingers trail against the cold glass. Ten years. Ten whole years of building herself into something new, something that could never be broken the way that scared little girl had been broken. Magazine covers, runways in Paris and Milan, a fortress of a beach house where t
