Sienna’s POV

The trip back to the apartment is nothing but wet vision and shaking breaths. My fingers clamp the wheel until my hands throb, and still I don’t let go.

Lyra is silent behind me, curled around that ripped picture—Jareth steadying me on a bike, frozen mid-laugh on paper that’s been torn in half.

She hasn’t made a sound since we walked out. Kids don’t need explanations to know the air has changed; they just feel ...