Chapter 3
LUNA
Misha Petrov—
Staring at me from the tallest part of the building.
Watching me like he already knew I’d come here.
Too fast. Too convenient. Like he wasn’t following me... but tracking me.
I saw him at the club just hours ago.
Does he want something from me... or is he already guessing I’m the obstacle to marrying my sister?
I looked away from him and let the cigarette burn to the filter.
I crushed it against the stone ledge, feeling the ember die under my fingers, but it wasn’t enough to smother the heat boiling in my veins.
Sleep wasn’t happening.
Peace sure as hell wasn’t happening.
So I did what I always did when the walls felt too tight.
I moved.
I woke up the next morning like I always did.
Not to sunlight.
Not to birdsong.
But to silence.
Thick. Heavy. Familiar.
It filled the corners of my room like smoke, curling around the edges of my breath. My fingers twitched before my eyes evenopened, reaching instinctively for the velvet tray on the bedside table.
I rolled onto my side and let the cold morning air hit my skin. I hadn’t turned on the heat last night. Maybe I liked the way the chill bit into me. Kept me sharp.
Kept me angry.
Beside the tray was a tangle of unfinished chains, scattered gemstones, and a wire cutter that still had blood on the grip from a day I didn’t want to talk about.
Jewelry wasn’t just a hobby.
It was a ritual.
It was the one part of my life I controlled.
I sat up slowly, the silk sheets falling away, and dragged the beading board into my lap like it was armor.
Some people meditated.
Some prayed.
I twisted silver into spirals sharp enough to cut.
