Cassandra felt a crushing pressure at the base of her skull, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her neck and refused to let go. A violent migraine pulsed through her head, each throb sharper than the last. She grimaced, her brows knitting tightly as she forced her heavy eyelids open.
The world blurred at first, shapes melting into light and shadow, but slowly—painfully—it sharpened into focus.
The first thing she noticed was Levi.
He sat beside her, posture unusually straight, almost… dutiful. That alone was enough to make her suspicious. Levi was many things—loud, dramatic, insufferable—but "dutiful" was not one of them.
Then her gaze drifted past him.
Someone stood a few steps away, back turned.
Even from that angle, Cassandra didn't need to see his face. She would recognize that figure anywhere.
Asher Devereaux.
Her chest tightened slightly.
Why did it look like he had been… helping her?
That didn't sit right.
