ELISA’S POV
I leaned against the washing machine long after the door slammed shut behind him, my knees still shaking so violently I thought they might give out. My breath came shallow and uneven, each inhale scraping my chest like broken glass.
My sleeve clung tight against my skin, the glow of the mark still burning through the fabric like a brand that refused to fade. No matter how tightly I pressed my palm against it, the fire lingered, pulsing, mocking me with every throb.
I wanted to scream. To tear the walls down until someone noticed. To run and never look back.
But who would believe me?
Not Alec. He’d sneer, accuse me of lying again, of “stirring trouble” where there was none. Not Talyra—she was the one who brought him here in the first place, the one I trusted even less than
