"You're just going to leave?"
I stopped, my hand tightening on the strap of my bag. I had spent the morning moving like a ghost, dressing in a blazer and slacks, my makeshift armor of wool and silk.
I had bathed for nearly an hour, scrubbing until my skin was pink, but I still woke up gasping for air every time I drifted off, my mind replaying the sensation of the tank.
I had hoped to find him next to me when the nightmares woke me. I had hoped for the warmth of his chest, for the grounding reality of his heartbeat. But the other side of the bed had been cold.
Adrian stood by the tall windows, already dressed in a charcoal suit that looked like a funeral shroud. His eyes were bloodshot and rimed with a weariness that went bone-deep.
"I have things to attend to." I said curtly.
"I assume you're going to find Beatrice and Penelope?"
"I do not need to tell you every detail of my itinerary, Mr. Reyes," I snapped, the bitterness rising in my throat.
