Silver couldn't force her mind to surrender to sleep despite hours of staring at the ceiling of her Gothic dorm room, watching shadows shift across stone walls that had probably witnessed decades of student drama but nothing quite like the emotional wreckage currently consuming her thoughts.
The rage from her encounter in the common lounge continued smoldering in her chest like fire trapped beneath layers of ice—hot enough to burn but contained by pressure that made the heat more dangerous rather than less. She'd replayed their conversation obsessively, dissecting every cruel laugh, every mocking inflection in Bianca's voice, the casual way they'd discussed her humiliation like it was entertainment designed specifically for their amusement.
But it was Eli's words that cut deepest, the phrase beneath him echoing through every corridor of her consciousness until it became the soundtrack to her sleepless misery.
