Amara's PoVI didn't sleep. I lay on top of the covers with my uniform still smelling like bleach and something warmer underneath it, replaying the five minutes before Pierce started pounding on that door — the way his hands had felt like they belonged there, the way I'd let them. By morning I'd built a whole speech in my head about how it was a one-time thing, an aberration, grief doing something stupid with my judgment. I almost believed it.Then my phone buzzed at 11:58 p.m. with a text from a number I hadn't saved. You're late. I sat up so fast the room tilted. I didn't reply. I didn't need to — my feet were already finding my boots, and somewhere underneath the part of me that knew better, a smaller, more honest part was already counting the minutes until that door.I had to admit, he must have read my filthy mind, because Templeton's golden boy seemed to have a strange obsession for the dark.For three dreadful nights following the incident, I'd sneaked into the locker room, sti
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