(Rhea's POV)
For some reason… this room feels smaller than before, like I'm trapped inside a glass box holding its breath. Morning crawls through the window, but its light can’t shake the lump of fear stuck in my throat. My eyes are still puffy; last night’s sounds keep looping in my head like a broken recording, especially after seeing and talking to Kaelan a few minutes ago.
I sit on the edge of the bed, pull the blanket closer, hoping the fabric can stop the shaking that won’t go away. The simplest wish returns—wanting to go home. Really… I want to go back to my studio, back to things I enjoy: the canvas, the oil-smelling paint that calms me, the paintings. To a place where the scariest things are a broken brush, the wrong shade of paint, or restoring a faded canvas. Not growls and mo
