//CLARA//
Stupid.
Catastrophically stupid.
I hauled my coat tighter around my shoulders, my boots slipping over another patch of dark, slick ice near the edge of the wharf.
Why didn't you just ask him? I demanded of myself, glaring into the heavy, salt-crusted mist hanging over the docks.
Hey, Casimir, quick question before breakfast, are you a serial killer or the target of one? Pass the jam, please.
But my tongue had turned to lead the second his hands left my waist. It was easy to be brave when he wasn't looking through me with those cold, gray eyes that seemed to count the beats of my pulse.
Facing a midnight corridor filled with shadows was terrifying. Facing Casimir with the truth was entirely out of the question.
Now I have no idea what I'm diving into, what danger I'm putting myself in, or whether anyone even knows I'm gone.
I don't even know what I'm looking for.
