He kicks the door.
The frame splinters.
The deadbolt tears free.
The whole thing blasts inward, bouncing off the wall with a crash loud enough to shake the building.
And then—
I see her.
Wren.
Standing in the hallway, dripping wet, wrapped in a towel, chest rising and falling in panicked breaths.
Her eyes are wide—too wide—locking onto us like we’re life rafts thrown at a drowning person.
My stomach drops straight to the floor.
I don’t even see the rest of the apartment at first.
Just her.
Her shaking hands.
Her pale face.
Her wet hair sticking to her collarbone.
Her towel clutched so hard the knuckles are white.
Atlas barrels past me, scanning the apartment like he’s ready to rip the walls apart with his bare hands.Kael goes the opposite way, checking the bedroom, the bathroom, the windows.
Me?
I go to her.
My legs feel like they don’t belong to me.
“Wren,” I whisper.
She swallows, breath hitching, eyes glossy—not with tears, but with shock.Pure, absolute shock.
“Finn,” she says, and my entire chest caves in at the sound of my name in her voice.
I don’t touch her.
Not yet.
Not until she moves first.
Her fingers tremble, loosening at the edge of the towel, then tightening again.
“Are you hurt?”I ask, voice low, terrified to hear the answer.
She shakes her head.
But the way her eyes dart behind me—toward the bedroom—makes my heart plummet again.
