ELENA
The light from the Foundation office windows spilled across my desk in golden lines, a soft glow that matched the calm in the room. Outside, the last stretch of autumn clung to the trees—leaves fluttering in warm orange and red waves. Inside, I was going through the budget report for the upcoming winter supply drive, frowning at a margin error Jacob had flagged earlier.
"We’re still short on the heating units," I murmured, tapping a pen against the clipboard. Across the table, Jacob looked up from his laptop.
"I sent a note to the vendor this morning. They think they can get us thirty more by next week."
"That still leaves us—"
The words never made it out.
Pain—blinding, savage—split through my head like a thunderclap. I gasped, the pen clattering from my hand. The office aroun
