(Elara's POV)The clinic was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the heavy, pressurized stillness of a tomb. The only thing breaking it was the hum of the air filter and the rhythmic, hollow beep of Silas’s heart monitor.Morning light cut through the blinds in sharp, golden slats, but it didn't make the room feel any warmer. My neck was a knotted mess from sleeping in that rigid chair, and my eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand into them.Peter was hunched over a laptop in the corner, his face washed in a sickly blue light. He hadn't muttered a word in an hour. By the window, Charles stood like a gargoyle, arms crossed, staring down at the parking lot. He was waiting for the world to break.Mercer was a shadow behind the door—always there, always silent.The vibration of my phone on the plastic nightstand felt like a physical jolt. I didn't recognize the number. I let it buzz a few time
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-02-09
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