I was pretending to study.

That was the easiest lie I had learned to tell in this body. Sitting on the edge of Blake’s bed with an open notebook, pen in hand, eyes on pages that meant nothing. Numbers blurred together. Words did not stay where I put them. My thoughts kept circling the same places over and over again.

Elena.

Mary.

Harry.

Victoria.

And all the things no one was saying out loud.

When the knock came on my bedroom door, I jumped. The sound landed too sharply in my ...