The night had bled into dawn, then into a mocking, sun-drenched morning that felt cruelly bright after the darkness of my soul. Sleep was a concept, a luxury I couldn't afford. Every attempt to close my eyes brought Adrian Cross’s name echoing in the silent chambers of my mind, the Hyatt Hotel looming, a gilded cage or a golden bridge—I hadn’t yet decided which.

Rose stirred early, the familiar sounds of her morning ritual a dull thrum against the frantic beat of my own heart. I heard the clink of ceramic mugs, the gentle sizzle of eggs, the faint scent of toast drifting from the kitchen. I should go. I should pretend. But the thought of her kind, worried eyes, and Jake’s innocent curiosity, felt like too much to bear. Not yet. Not before I had fully wrestled with the monster I had summoned.