Serena's POV – Between Blades
The morning came slowly, dragging its gray light through the curtains of Emily's small townhouse.
Serena lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint creaks of the settling house and the soft rhythm of her own heart — too fast, too anxious, too alive.
The memory of Christopher's touch clung to her like the scent of smoke. She could still feel where his fingers had pressed into her skin, where his mouth had stolen her breath.
He hadn't said a word after she'd left him standing by the window, his power reclaimed and his fury spent. But his silence had followed her home, heavy and echoing, louder than any threat could have been.
Now, as sunlight edged through the drapes, she rose and crossed the room. Her reflection in the small cracked mirror met her like a stranger's — pale, hair unbound, eyes shadowed but still defiantly bright.
Downstairs, she heard Emily's quiet movements. The clink of china. The rustle of paper.
