- Sebastian Lightwood:
The room felt smaller than it ever had before when I was here with Elias, keeping him company while he slept.
Not because the walls had moved—because time had, the time that we didn't have. A clock ticking, letting us know that our freedom is on borrowed time. Because every second we have our freedom mattered now, because every sound felt too loud, because the quiet pressed against my ears until it rang.
An hour.
That was all we had. One hour is how long we can still be free without being tied to a contract.
I folded a black shirt with careful, mechanical movements, smoothing the fabric as if it might remember the shape of my hands. The suitcase lay open at my feet, yawning wide like it was waiting to swallow pieces of my life whole. Everything I touched felt wrong to pack. Too permanent. Too final.
The clock ticked.
