Larissa's POV
The alarm clock hadn't even buzzed when my eyes snapped open at 5:43 AM. My tongue felt like I'd been licking concrete all night, and someone was using my skull as their personal percussion practice space.
"Water," I wheezed, stumbling toward the bathroom. "Dear God, I need water."
The bathroom mirror wasn't kind. Mascara had migrated south of my eyes in dark smudges, my hair looked like I'd wrestled with a tornado and lost, and there was an impressive pillow crease carved into my left cheek.
"Well, hello there, supermodel," I croaked at my reflection. "Ready to conquer the corporate world?"
I winced at the bird's nest masquerading as my hair, then dragged myself into the shower. The scalding water felt like salvation, washing away the remnants of last night's makeup and the lingering sting of Dora and Queenie's ambush. That whole scene at the bar played on repeat in my throbbing head.
