THE NEXT MORNING

There was a knock at the door. Soft, a little hesitant.

Camila didn't flinch. She remained a still point in the rumpled bedsheets, her gaze fixed on some unseen spot on the wall.

Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, as if the wall was the enemy ready to attack.

Then another knock came, a little louder this time.

"Camila." Cole's voice cut in, low and hoarse. "You there?"

Camila glanced briefly at the door before responding flatly.

"Yes."

"Can I ...