SERAPHINA’S POV
I didn’t remember leaving the Lockwood Estate.
One minute, I was standing in the library, the air thick with dust and lies, my mother’s words ricocheting inside my skull like mini bullets.
The next thing I knew, I was outside, my feet pounding against the stone steps, moving fast, as if distance alone could keep those words from sinking deeper.
Ordinary.
Unremarkable.
Worse, if anything.
I was in no right mind to drive, so I left my car behind, stormed down the long driveway, and through the gates.
The rain had begun as a thin mist, barely a whisper against my skin, but with every passing second, it grew heavier, colder, soaking through my clothes, until the fabric clung to me like a second skin.
I welcomed it.
The biting cold hurt less than the ache clawing through my chest.
I didn't know how long I walked, only that every step grew heavier under the weight of thirty years.
Years spent wondering why I was never enough.
