Chapter 75

Azalea felt something brushing against her face. It irritated her. The wind. Her hair. The cold air was scraping over her skin like something was wrong. Her body was heavy, her mind still fogged, but the discomfort was growing sharp, unbearable. She tried to keep her eyes closed, to sink back into whatever sleep her body was begging for—but the wind wouldn’t stop, and something in her bones screamed at her to wake up.

Her eyes opened slowly. The outside view came into focus. A quiet road. Tall trees lined the sides. Long grass swaying under the late afternoon light. Peaceful. Calm.

Too calm.

And then it hit her.

A full-body jolt like she’d been struck. The memory slammed into her like a truck—Asher. His hands. His voice. The way he’d—She jerked upright, gasping like she’d come up from drowning. Her throat cracked open with a scream, and her whole body twisted as if trying to break out of itself. She scrambled for the seatbelt like it was choking her, her nails scrat