POV: Ayla

The morning after the confession, the silence in the room feels heavy and thick. It presses down on me like a living thing. I sit up slowly. The thin sheet pools around my waist. The air still carries the heat from the night before, but now it clashes with the cold truth settling over everything. My skin remembers their hands, their mouths, their bodies moving together, yet my mind replays one word that slips out at the worst moment.

Caius stands near the window. His back is rigid, shoulders tense. Ryker stays on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Zane lingers by the door. He...