AriaThe night was unusually quiet. Still. The kind of stillness that clung to your skin like damp fog, thick and heavy with something unnamed. I stood by the narrow window in the small guest chamber Whitney insisted I use, hands resting on the cool stone sill, my breath fogging up the glass. The moon was high, almost full, casting pale blue shadows across the courtyard of Diamond Spark Pack.I rubbed my arms, the air feeling too thin. Something felt wrong. Deep in my chest, I felt it stir. A tremble beneath the surface of my skin, like the ground quaking before the storm. My senses were off, sharp, too sharp. Every sound felt louder, more distinct—the rustling leaves, the far-off hoot of an owl, the slow shifting of guards below.And then it hit me—his scent.My heart lurched in my chest. I stumbled back from the window, hand clutched over my mouth.Dexter.I hadn’t seen him. I hadn’t heard his voice. But my body recognized him like it always had. My pulse raced, wild and desperate.
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