Sierra
Morning at the Draven estate is never loud—not truly—but it hums with movement, with purpose. Everyone knows where they’re supposed to be.
Lena walks beside me, her stride easy, her braid loose down her back. She hums under her breath, something tuneless and soft, like she’s deliberately trying to seem harmless.
“You’ll get used to it,” she says, nodding toward the line forming near the breakfast trays. “The mornings are the worst. Everyone’s half-awake and twice as irritable.”
I manage a weak smile. We step closer, the heat from the kitchen brushing my face. My stomach twists—not with hunger exactly, but with nerves. I still haven’t learned how to move here without feeling like I’m trespassing.
That’s when I hear it.
“Can’t believe it’s happening again.” My ears prick instin
