[Ovelia's POV]
My lungs constricted, each breath a battle. The cheerful voices from dinner still echoed in the dining room, but all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears. My fingernails dug into my palms—crescent marks I'd feel tomorrow—as images flashed behind my eyelids: Ace facing drawn swords, Ray bleeding in the dirt, Philip's laughter silenced forever. The wooden floorboards creaked under my unsteady feet as I bolted for the door.
The evening air slapped my face, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine needles. Moonlight caught Ace's silver hair as he turned, his boots crunching on gravel. His eyes—those impossible silver eyes—widened when they landed on me.
"Ovelia?" His voice roughened with concern. The subtle shift of his shoulders as he angled his body toward me. "What's wrong?"
