Riley's POV
The metallic taste of that vile black substance still clings to my tongue even after scrubbing my teeth raw. My legs feel unsteady as I emerge from the bathroom, each step sending ripples of residual pain through my abdomen.
Caleb shadows my every movement, his protective instincts on high alert, but Mason immediately claims my other side the moment I appear. His fingers intertwine with mine, desperate for contact, and I can feel the tremor in his touch.
The exhaustion hits me like a physical weight. I let my head drop onto Mason's shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent as they guide me toward the couch. The cramping in my stomach has dulled to a persistent ache, but something about the way Freya moves across the room makes my blood run cold.
She's frantically shuffling through her collection of ancient texts and mysterious vials, her movements jerky and panicked. When she feels my gaze burning into her back, she freezes completely.
