Zayne POV
I don’t leave the office.
Not after Elena’s voice—sharp, furious, accusing—sounded through everything I thought I understood about that night. I should go home, I should call Isla. I should… do something normal.
But nothing about this is normal anymore. So I stayed alone. Because if the memories are coming back, I don’t want to interrupt it. I don’t want to lose whatever thread I’ve finally managed to pull loose.
The lights are dim now, the sun already slipping lower outside the glass walls. Time has passed. I just haven’t been paying attention to it. I’m sitting on the floor this time, against the couch. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. Like the position somehow makes it easier to breathe, and easier to think. It doesn’t.
My head still feels heavy, tight even. Like somethin
