KAIA

I grabbed my own throat.

I made the sound of someone who couldn’t get air—sharp and so ugly. My chest jerked. My eyes went wide.

The lamp snapped on. Yellow light flooded the room.

Mom stood by the switch in her sleep shirt, hair messy, face tight with worry. “What the hell is going on?”

Kane was already sitting on the edge of my bed, one hand on my shoulder, the other hovering like he didn’t know whether to touch my face or not.

“She started making noises in her sleep,” he said, voice low and urgent, perfectly believable. “I thought she was dreaming. Then it sounded like she...