Seraphina's Point Of View
The dial tone rang in my ear… ring... ring... ring… a sharp, mechanical rhythm that felt like a tiny hammer striking the inside of my skull, each pulse driving the panic deeper into my chest.
I stood in the center of Mason's living room, my legs locked, my spine pulled taut as a bowstring. Across from me, Rose sat huddled on the velvet sofa, her hands tucked between her knees, shivering despite the air conditioning being turned off… as if the cold came from somewhere inside her rather than the room itself.
Near the far window, Mason leaned against the sill, his jaw working silently, his face pale and tight from the physical strain of his injuries and the sheer, toxic weight of the video we'd just watched. I could see the effort it cost him just to stand upright, the way his weight shifted subtly to favor his uninjured side.
