Elena’s POV

By the time Monday morning hit, my stomach already hurt.

Not the sick kind. The knowing kind. The kind that tells you something ugly is about to happen and you agreed to it anyway.

Blake walked beside me through the parking lot like nothing was wrong, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes forward. We had barely spoken since we left his house the night before. Not because we were mad. Because we were getting ready.

“You good,” he asked quietly as we reached the doors.

I nodded. ...