ZARIA'S POV
I had just finished stepping out of the shower and changed into a fresh pair of house clothes, a grey T-shirt I'd thrifted and loose fitting pajama bottoms.
I was standing in front of my bedroom mirror, vigorously towel-drying my damp hair, when a sharp yowl echoed from downstairs, immediately followed by the loud, metallic clang of something hitting the hardwood floor or wall…
My heart leaped straight into my throat. Dropping the towel, I hurried out the room, almost holding my boobs to stop them from bouncing as I practically ran down the stairs, my hair still wet and dripping droplets down the front of my oversized shirt.
When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, the scene was absolute chaos. A steaming metal pot lay on its side near the island, hot water splashed acr
