Amara
By the time I rolled out of bed, the sun had already slipped past its gentle morning stage.
Late morning light spilled through my blinds, warm and lazy, glinting off the untouched dishes from last night. I padded into the kitchen barefoot, still half-asleep, and made coffee on autopilot.
The past few days had crawled by in a haze of tension I could not quite shake. Lucien had that effect. He was everywhere, even when he was not. In the mirror. In my dreams. In the quiet spaces between thoughts.
The doorbell rang.
I frowned, glancing at the time.
Then a voice, familiar and loud, came through the door. “If you don’t open this door, Amara, I’m calling the landlord to say you’ve been kidnapped.”
I smiled in spite of myself. Gracie.
I swung open the door and was immediately pulle
