Slater
The clock on the bedside stand read 4:02 a.m.
Not that it mattered, I hadn't slept.
I'd spent the entire night tossing and turning, my mind racing with worry about where Charis had gone after our fight. Every creak of the building, every sound in the hallway had me hoping she might return, but my room had remained empty.
I'd sent Kael a message hours ago asking if he'd seen Eamon, but while the message showed as read, there had been no reply. Rhett was offline entirely—probably back at the hospital where he should have been resting.
That left me with nothing. Just my guilt and the memory of the pain in Charis's eyes when she'd learned I was the one who reported her to the school authority.
And then the way she'd looked at me—like I was a stranger, like I was someone dangerous rather than someone who loved her—made something twist painfully in my gut.
