MIA’S POV.

The knock on Mr Hale’s room door reverberated like a thunderclap in the stillness of the hallway. My breath hitched, but I didn’t falter.

I smoothed the silk of my dress one last time, its cool fabric brushing against my skin. It felt like a sharp contrast to the fire already curling in my veins.

Before I could even lift my hand to the handle, the door swung open.

And there he stood. Black shirt stretched taut over his torso. While in sweatpants that somehow seemed ...