Chapter 12. When the Air Burns

Even after the moon had long since climbed beyond the rooftops, Lora lay wide-eyed on the narrow bed, the rough linen beneath her body twisted into a strangled promise she just couldn’t keep. Her heart ticked like a clock unwilling to stop, and every shallow inhale seemed fat with the memory of Kai’s hands—warm, insistent, unwilling to release. In that moment, her breath felt as reluctant as a dancer forced onto the stage.

The tall mirrors propped against the plaster walls appeared to gossip among themselves, reflecting her restlessness in endless echoes. She might have sworn one mirror winked at her, as if amused by her own helpless pacing between wakefulness and dreams. Closing her eyes merely summoned the same persistent replay: dark, unbound eyes staring back across time, accusation simmering just below the surface.

At her throat, the fresh mark throbbed in protest, its heat a cruel reminder of Kai’s absence. She lifted a trembling hand—fingertips grazing the tender