Why was I still here? Why hadn’t the rogues just killed me that night? I should’ve been the one to die. I should’ve…
But I was still alive, clinging to this cruel existence like a threadbare rope. And for what? For what?
Nadia'S POV
I stumbled back to my shabby room, a dark, damp space in the far corner of the servants' quarters that smelled of mold and neglect. The floor creaked beneath my feet as I dragged myself to the thin, ragged mattress that served as my bed. The stone walls were cold to the touch, sucking the warmth from my bones like a leech. I curled up on the worn fabric, hugging my knees to my chest, and the tears I had held back in the hall came rushing out, hot and uncontrollable.
The world outside was silent, save for the distant howling of the wind through the cracks in the walls. My breath hitched, each sob tearing through my chest like a jagged knife. I couldn’t stop thinking of Gloria—her face, her voice, her final words to me. "Sunshine, run!"