Camille couldn't sleep.
The house was too quiet. Too wide. Too cold in the corners where silence lingered like cobwebs. Every beat of her heart felt too loud in the darkness, thudding against her ribs like a warning.
She tossed. Turned. Gave up.
The events of the night replayed in her head again and again Elena's venom, Dante stepping between them, the car ride that felt like a slow unpeeling of truths she wasn't ready to face.
And the worst part?
A deep, unsettling flutter that hadn't left her chest since Dante opened the car door for her.
She pushed off the sheets and slipped out of bed.
Maybe a glass of water would quiet her mind.
The hallway was dim, lit only by soft strips of golden light along the floor. Her bare feet made no sound as she padded toward the kitchen, her robe tied loosely around her waist.
But halfway down the staircase
She froze.
Voices.
Low. Tense. Familiar.
