Poppy’s POV

The cracked glass shouldn’t still be holding, but it is.

I stare at it, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat as another thin fracture splinters outward, branching like it’s alive. The water inside trembles, rippling faintly.

Leo’s arm is still locked around my waist, solid and unmoving. I lean into it without thinking, because right now he’s the only thing keeping me from freaking out.

Jake steps closer to the desk, slowly, as if he’s approaching ...