(Sanya's POV)
The next night, I move through the house like a ghost, gathering the few belongings I can call my own.
Aaron—or rather, Tyron's body with Aaron's soul—moves beside me with the same quiet urgency, and we work in silence, communicating only through glances and small nods, careful not to make a sound that might wake the family sleeping in their rooms down the hall.
My hands shake as I fold a dress, one of the few pieces of clothing that survived Tara's flames, or rather, one of the pieces the Creator mysteriously returned to my closet, and I shove it into a small bag along with some undergarments, a pair of shoes, and the documents the lawyer gave me about my grandmother's inheritance.
That's all I have.
Everything else in this house belongs to the Stones, and I want nothin
