Chapter 1

Maya’s pov

I was already tired of the way the fluorescent lights hummed above us when Ethan dropped the takeout bag on the scarred wooden table and said, “Eat before you start complaining about the composition again.”

The art studio smelled like turpentine and old clay and whatever sauce he had ordered without asking. I didn’t look up from the half-finished panel in front of me. Charcoal dust clung to my fingers. My shoulders ached from hunching too long. We had the place to ourselves after ten. The rest of the building had gone quiet except for the occasional distant slam of a door somewhere down the hall....