Kaya
I'm dead exhausted, but I barely manage a couple of hours of sleep, tossing and turning as if I'm being prickled by sharp needles; as if I'm wrapped in sandpaper and glass.
My body aches from both the shift and the last night's fight—limbs sore, back still burning with wounds that haven't yet healed. My head is a muddled mess of thoughts, frustration spiraling through my mind like wild, spinning tops.
And it doesn't help that now, instead of one voice in my head, I have two—constantly circling, clashing, carouseling in chaos.
I didn't believe a single word he said, Rana huffs, her tone sharp with disapproval. I can practically see her in my mind—ears drooping, eyes narrowed in disappointment. Athan was too anxious. None of that felt real. He was definitely hiding something from us.
I know she means well, but the mere mention of Magnus—and his wolf—only sends my fury flaring higher.
