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AUTHOR’S POV
The moon bathed Sloane’s bedroom in silver light, casting soft shadows across the walls. The air was thick with the remnants of her earlier sorrow, the evidence still lingering on her flushed cheeks.
Tear-stained pillows surrounded her, and though her eyes were closed, her face relaxed, her body curled slightly under the covers, she wasn’t entirely at peace.
Sleep had come only after exhaustion had wrung her out, after the weight of her emotions had finally pulled her under.
Her lashes fluttered slightly, her breath steady, deep, even. The silence in the room was thick, the only sounds were the faint rustling of the leaves outside and the soft rhythm of the city’s distant heartbeat. But then—
A sound.
Soft. Barely audible.
A shift in the air.
Sloane stirred
