Siena’s POV
The air on the terrace is sharp and cool, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the ballroom.
Raiden’s grip around my wrist still lingers like a phantom, even though he’s already let go. I stand several feet away from him, arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to shield myself from the chill.
Or maybe from him.
He’s pacing now, his movements controlled but tense, his jaw clenched as if he’s holding back words that are barely contained. I don’t know why he brought me out here. Maybe he thought prying eyes didn’t belong in whatever this is.
But I know better. Raiden doesn’t do anything without a purpose.
I break the silence first, my voice sharper than I intended. "What do you want, Raiden?"
He stops pacing and turns to face me, his expres
