Emily
I leaned against the railing, watching the sky bleed slowly toward midnight.
Stars blinked through thin clouds, distant and uncaring. Unlike the ballroom full of wolves behind me, the stars didn’t ask questions or judge what they didn’t understand.
Michael’s voice still rang in my ears. Not what he’d said, but what he hadn’t.
It was the absence of an apology. The quiet edge of entitlement. As if we were still pieces on a board, and I should be flattered to have been considered.
I didn’t know what hurt more, his casual smugness or the way part of me had still wanted him to regret it.
It wasn’t personal. The words meant nothing. But they’d sunk in like a splinter anyway.
The door behind me clicked open, then eased closed.
Logan’s energy was different from anyone else’s. It
