They moved me to the North Wing—cold, silent, and isolated. No windows, no light, no sense of time.
Just four gray walls, a metal bed that creaked if I even breathed too loud, and two guards stationed outside my door like statues. No names. No faces. Just silence.
I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. Not after what happened.
The voices kept playing in my head. My voice. Luca’s voice. Sliced, stitched, and twisted into something almost true but not quite.
That was the worst part. The almost. They hadn’t needed to fabricate much. Just enough to tip the scales to poison the truth with implication.
And Aiden... Gods, Aiden.
His face haunted me the most. The way he looked at me. Not like a stranger. Worse. Like I was someone he wished he didn’t know.
Like he had to force himself not to care.
