The room was too quiet.
The kind of silence that wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating.
Emily’s pulse pounded, her body rigid as James’s hands stayed cupped around her face, anchoring her in place. His touch was warm, grounding, but dangerous.
His blue eyes burned with determination, frustration… and something else.
Something she couldn’t quite name.
"We fight."
That’s what he had said.
No more running. No more hiding.
But as the words settled between them, doubt gnawed at her.
Margaret Sterling’s voice slithered through her thoughts, her warning curling around Emily’s spine like a noose.
"Even the people closest to you can have knives."
She wanted to believe James.
She wanted to believe that, despite all the lies, secrets, and betrayals, he was still on her side.
But deep down
