Annabelle tossed the phone onto the freshly made bed with a frustrated flick of her wrist. 

It landed atop the crisp, unfamiliar sheets.

And for a fleeting moment, she stared at it, willing herself not to pick it up again. 

She clenched her jaw, pushing away the nagging thought that she had just snapped at the one man who could help her navigate the chaos she’d unleashed. 

Instead, she turned her back on the phone and the guilt simmered in her chest.

Mauve sat slumped in her wheelchair near the door, her expression clouded with defeat and something Annabelle couldn’t quite name. 

Annabelle didn't spare her a second glance as...