Rose's POV

The dream was terrifying.

I was standing in a vast, empty hall adorned with wedding decorations. The air smelled metallic, thick, and suffocating. My wedding dress, pristine and white moments ago, was soaked with blood. The vibrant red seemed to pulse, a grotesque reminder of something I couldn’t yet piece together.

My gaze fell downward, and there he was—Finn, lying in a pool of his own blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at me, accusing and hollow.

My hands trembled as I looked down at them. I was holding a knife.

“No...no, no, no!” I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty hall.

I tried to drop the...