Sienna

I woke up with the kind of headache that feels like the night sat on your chest and refused to move. The sun was already leaking through my curtains, bright and loud, but everything inside me felt dim.

My bedside table was empty.

No phone.

No iPad.

No smartwatch.

Nothing.

Just silence.

And the echo of my dad’s voice from last night—

“Who are you on the phone with? Don’t lie to me. Was it Jaxon?”

“You’re grounded. All of it—gone. Hand them over.”

“You’re ...