Chapter 1

A sharp rustle followed by a blade of light burning through her closed eyelids tears Minnow from her restless sleep.

The curtains are already being drawn apart, sunlight flooding the bedroom in a sudden, unforgiving wash as Ariella moves between the tall bay windows with quiet efficiency.

“Hey—what do you think you're doing?” Minnow snaps, turning away and dragging the covers over her head.

Ariella doesn't react. She rarely does.

“Your mother wants you downstairs for brunch,” she says before leaving without waiting for an answer.

The door clicks shut.

Minnow groans into the pillow.

“Why does no one understand I don't want to see people?”

She forces herself out of bed and crosses into the ensuite, slipping out of her silk nightdress as she goes.

Her body has changed.

Bruises linger across her skin, fading to yellow. Some she remembers. Most she doesn't.

Her gaze settles on the mark at her throat, and her fingers brush it gently.

“What happened to me?” she whispers.

The mirror offers no answer.

She reaches for the makeup, carefully working layer after layer across the bruises until they soften beneath the foundation. It isn't enough to hide them completely, but it will have to do.

After tying her dark brown hair into a loose knot, she steps beneath the shower and lets the hot water run over her for far longer than she should. For a few precious minutes she can almost pretend it washes away the unease clinging to her skin.

Downstairs, her mother is waiting.

She pulls on a loose floral cotton dress and ankle boots, the effort feeling heavier than it should. The house is quiet as she makes her way through it, her footsteps echoing beneath the high ceilings and polished timber floors.

The Venandi mansion has always been impressive.

Today, it feels hollow.

She pauses in the doorway of the dining room.

It is still beautiful—the soft pink wallpaper, the crisp white panelling, and the careful balance of light and texture her mother has spent years perfecting. Sunlight spills through the tall windows, catching polished silverware and crystal glasses until the whole room glows.

Once, Minnow loved this room.

Now it feels like a stage.

“There you are, my darling.”

Her mother's voice scrapes across her nerves.

Dovie sits at the long dining table, immaculate as always in a pale yellow dress and pearls, her short blonde hair styled so perfectly it doesn't seem capable of moving.

“Hello, Mother,” Minnow says, taking the chair opposite her.

Ariella appears almost immediately, placing a stack of pancakes topped with fresh berries and a neat scoop of vanilla ice cream in front of her.

The sweetness turns Minnow's stomach.

She forces a smile anyway.

“Thank you.”

“So, darling,” Dovie begins, lifting her crystal flute, “what are your plans for today?”

“Don't call me that. I have a name.” Minnow picks up her knife and fork without looking up. “And this is my plan.”

A flicker of discomfort crosses Dovie's face.

“Sorry. Minnow.”

Ariella returns to refill their glasses with prosecco before slipping silently from the room.

“I just feel,” Dovie continues carefully, “that you've been spending a lot of time alone in your room lately.”

“I haven't been in the mood for company.”

“Your father and I were hoping this might just be a phase. Or...” She hesitates. “Is there something else going on?”

The question lands harder than it should.

For a heartbeat, the room blurs.

Cold air.

Hands.

Someone breathing.

Then it is gone again.

Minnow tightens her grip around her glass before setting it back onto the table.

“Don't worry, Mother,” she says, forcing a note of sarcasm into her voice. “It's probably just hormones.”

Dovie's expression softens, although it never quite reaches her eyes.

“Well... that's good, then.”

They eat in silence.

Minnow spends more time pushing her food around the plate than eating it. Every bite tastes sweeter than the last until the syrup turns almost sickening in her mouth.

Eventually she pushes her chair back.

“I'm done.”

Without waiting for permission, she leaves.

The silence upstairs wraps around her like a blanket.

She changes into an oversized jumper and track pants before climbing back into bed, pulling the quilt around herself.

Sleeping during the day is easier.

At night, the fragments return.

They are never enough to make sense of, only enough to leave her unsettled. Strange smells that don't belong. Shadows lingering just beyond sight. Voices that almost form words before dissolving into nothing again.

She closes her eyes.

A knock sounds at the door.

She sighs.

“Come in.”

Instead of Ariella, Saylor leans around the doorway with a grin already forming. His dark hair falls into his eyes, his olive skin still carrying the warmth of the midday sun.

“Hi, girl. What's happening?”

He lets himself in without waiting for an invitation, flicking his hair back as he surveys the room.

His eyebrows lift.

“Okay... this?” He gestures dramatically at her clothes. “Deeply offensive.”

Minnow huffs a laugh and nudges him as he climbs onto the bed beside her.

“Don't be such a snob.”

“Ouch,” he says, rubbing his arm dramatically. “You know I bruise easily.”

She smiles despite herself.

Saylor has been in her life for as long as she can remember. The same schools. The same summers. The same quiet understanding that never seemed to need explaining.

He settles beside her as she reaches for her phone, letting soft music drift quietly through the room.

“Will you stay for a bit?” she asks.

His smile softens.

“As long as you want.”

He gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The gesture is so familiar it almost hurts.

Minnow curls into his side, resting her head against his shoulder as her breathing slowly begins to match his.

Sleep comes quickly.

And so does the nightmare.

Cold earth presses against her skin.

Mud clings to her hands.

Footsteps pound somewhere behind her.

Then a man's voice cuts through the darkness, low enough to make her blood run cold.

"...Moonfall Pack."

Minnow jolts awake, her heart hammering against her ribs.

The dream was over.

But the words remain.