Morning came in a bruised shade of gray, the kind of sky that felt like it hadn’t decided whether to rain or break open with light. The air outside the inn was cold, sharp, and heavy with the scent of pine and smoke drifting from a distant fire line.
Sonia tied her hair back her real hair now and slid into her jacket. No more binding her chest, no more blazer buttoned to the throat. Today, she wasn’t Silas Vale. She wasn’t hiding behind him.
She was herself. And that would have to be enough.
In the kitchen, Rivers was already awake, pouring over a hand-drawn map with Silas, Isla, and Alex. Steam rose from chipped mugs. Tension sat in every corner of the room like fog.
Eric sat by the window, eyes scanning the tree line. The sedative had worn off. The wound in his side was bandaged tigh
