Chloe’s POV

I don’t sleep.

Not really.

I drop my bag on the couch, stare at the ceiling half the night, and hear Danny’s voice over and over:

“Next time someone calls you out, you come to me first.”

Possession disguised as concern.

Concern disguised as control.

Control mixed with something I don’t want to name.

By morning, I still feel the echo of his hands on the elevator walls. His breath near my ear. The way he didn’t raise his voice—he lowered it, like I was the only ...