Heiko stepped into the washroom like a man possessed, his movements stiff, almost mechanical, as though his body was still caught in the storm that had just swept through him moments ago.
The air inside the room was cool, dim, and quiet, but it did nothing to soothe the fire that licked through his veins.
He barely managed to close the door behind him before bracing both hands against the sink, head bowed, chest heaving.
The reflection that stared back at him in the mirror was not entirely his own—it was a distorted image, clouded by longing, frustration, and the barely contained snarl of the beast that clawed at the inside of his skin.
Without thinking, he splashed his face with cold water, again and again, as if hoping the chill would extinguish the flames roaring inside him.
Bu
