Leah’s question echoed in the silence of the apartment long after Damien had gone. Are you terrified to admit just how much you can’t stand to be without him?
I didn’t answer her, mostly because I didn’t have an answer for myself. Pushing him away had felt like a necessary act of self-preservation, a declaration of my independence. But the hollow ache his absence left behind was a physical thing.
But there was no time for self-pity. The cold, hard anger returned, a welcome shield for my bruised emotions. I had a war to fight, and I had chosen to fight it alone.
The next morning, I put my plan into action. I spent hours at a print shop, meticulously printing every draft of Bloodbound Moon, every page of notes, every outline. Armed with my evidence, I took a taxi to the gleaming downtown skyscraper that housed Sterling Pictures, the studio that had fast-tracked Seraphina’s stolen project.
