Sonia woke with a start, her head pounding. The safe house’s creaky bed sagged beneath her, and for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Shadows from the early dawn slanted across the wooden walls, and for the first time in days, the air wasn’t thick with smoke or panic. But the memory of Daxton’s halls still clung to her like smoke ghosts in every corner.
She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself upright. Eric lay beside her, his breathing shallow but steady. He’d insisted on taking the couch, but somewhere in the night he’d drifted over to the mattress beside her, seeking comfort he’d never admit to needing. A dark stain of dried blood marked his shirt where he’d been cut escaping Daxton, but the wound looked clean, if angry.
Sonia exhaled, feeling the ache in her own chest. Leaving D
