POV: ALARIC
Luna Jorja gasped like she'd been punched in the chest.
I saw my father clench his jaw so tight his molars might've cracked.
But Karina?
She stared like her brain refused to register that the girl on the floor was her.
Photo Two.
A blurry, front–camera selfie. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown. A smudge of lipstick running down her chin. She looked manic and high.
She looked like a stranger.
She clearly didn't remember taking it. Of course, she didn't take it.
Then came the video,
"Get the fuck away from me! I said leave me alone!"
Her own voice echoed from the video. It was loud and slurred as she swung at the air like she was boxing a ghost.
She was sweating, shaking, and completely alone.
"That's not me," she whispered in a small voice. "I don't… I don't remember any of this."
But Lance wasn't done just yet.
He tapped one more time and pulled up the texts.
"D, please. Just a little to get me through the night. I'm losing it."
