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CHARLOTTE

M y eyes burn, the weight of exhaustion dragging me under.

I don’t deserve sleep. Not the peaceful kind, anyway.

I should be planning my escape. Calculating every step. But right now?

Nothing.

No plan. No exit. Just silence pressing in.

I heard Declan half an hour ago, doors slamming, boots storming. He’s close. Probably asleep in the next room. I’d be a fool to think there aren’t guards stationed nearby, fingers itching on triggers.

They don’t trust me. None of them do. Not after what happened with Conan.

I’m boxed in.

I need to reach Drago. I need to know my little girl is okay.

The thought alone almost breaks me. I clutch the pillow tighter, as if it can anchor me to something soft in this place that’s all sharp corners and locked doors.

Tomorrow . Tomorrow is a new day.

Maybe Declan will be less furious. Or, Enzo will show up for the notepad.

I always find a way. I’ve survived this long. I can keep going.

As my eyes flutter shut, I can't tell which is worse—my reality or the things that chase me through sleep.