Chapter 12

• The adrenaline still thrummed in Cleo’s veins, a frantic echo of the chaos they’d just escaped. Rowan guided her to a small, secluded bar tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its dim lighting and hushed atmosphere a stark contrast to the pandemonium they’d left behind. The air here was thick with the scent of aged wood and something faintly sweet, a comforting counterpoint to the lingering metallic tang of fear.
• He pulled out a chair for her, his hand lingering on her arm for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a silent reassurance in the tense silence. Cleo sank into the plush velvet, the softness a welcome relief against the raw edges of her shattered reality. She took a deep breath, trying to still the tremors that still wracked her body.
• “I never thought I would see this day,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper, the words catching in her throat. “Leaving him… it feels like escaping from a nightmare, yet, it’s so real.”