The house felt different the moment Dante stepped out of Camille's room.
Not physically nothing had changed but the atmosphere shifted.
Sharper.
Tighter.
Coiled like a wire pulled to breaking.
Camille stood inside her doorway, fingers gripping the frame as she watched his retreating figure cut down the hallway with silent, lethal purpose.
When he disappeared around the corner, the silence swallowed her whole.
She closed the door softly.
Her hands were still shaking.
The messages were still there on her phone, glowing like tiny sparks of poison. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't bring herself to delete them either.
Instead, she sat on her bed and curled her knees to her chest.
Her mind ran wild.
Victor… why now? Why drag me back into this? Why try to ruin things I haven't even fully understood yet?
Why lie? Why go so far as to fabricate pictures?
Her chest tightened painfully.
