Chapter 8. Heatstroke

The cracked window still hummed with residual heat when Cassandra’s expression changed from shock to calculation. She inched closer to Aria, her voice a thin whisper trembling with venom and triumph.

“You’re a monster, Aria. And now I have proof.”

The words did not echo—they sank, heavy and poisonous, into the silent room.

Leah mumbled something about a thrown rock, burrowing deeper into her blankets, groggy and unaware. But Cassandra was wide awake. Wide-eyed. Terrified in the way only someone who had seen something forbidden could be terrified.

She paced backward slowly, never breaking eye contact, as though Aria might detonate at any moment. Her gaze flicked to the cracked glass, to Aria’s glowing skin, to the faint scorch on the floor.

Then—like a wolf smelling blood—Cassandra realized exactly what she held in her hands:

Aria’s secret. Kade’s weakness. And political leverage worth its weight in gold.

She backed toward the door with tremb