CIARA’S POV

Morning sunlight crept through the thin curtains, painting stripes on the floor. I was still wrapped in my towel, standing in the cramped bathroom, staring at my reflection. My hair hung limp and tangled, skin blotchy from too little sleep and too much thinking. I pressed my palms to the cold sink, willing myself to feel something other than dread.

Behind the closed door, I could hear Pippa moving about quietly. Somewhere deeper in the room, Sarah snored. The sound was almost ...