The night after the ritual felt strange. The air inside Lorenzo's penthouse was thick, heavy, almost breathing. Aria lay on the bed, her face pale, sweat clinging to her skin. The red mark on her neck glowed faintly in the dark. Every few minutes, her lips moved like she was whispering something, but no words came out.
Lorenzo hadn't left her side. His eyes were hollow, his shirt torn from the chaos of the chapel. Elias paced the room with a gun in hand, though he knew bullets meant nothing now. The silence was loud. Every sound felt like it came from inside their bones.
"She's burning up," Lorenzo said finally, pressing a wet cloth to her forehead. "This isn't normal. It's like… she's fighting something inside."
Elias frowned. "She's fighting him. Silas. Whatever he did in that chapel, it didn't kill him. He moved into her."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. "Then we'll get him out."
