Myra
The alarm on my phone didn't just wake me; it pulled me back from a depth of sleep I hadn’t known existed. For one disorienting heartbeat, the world was nothing but the scent of cedar and the heavy, comforting weight of Tony’s arm draped across my waist. The silence of the farm was so absolute it felt like a physical presence, a sanctuary built of old wood and quiet snow.
Then, the memory of the orange glow and the jagged sound of Thorne’s laughter rushed back.
I sat up, my muscles screaming in protest. Every joint felt like it had been filled with ground glass, and the long scrape on my arm throbbed in time with my pulse under the fresh bandage. Beside me, Tony groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He looked rough—the bruising around his eye had deepened into a dark, angry purple, an
