NOAH
I sat on the edge of the bed, the luxurious silk sheets feeling like sandpaper against my skin. The suite was quiet, but not the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the heavy, charged silence that happens right before a storm breaks. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and despite the air conditioning, I felt a sheen of cold sweat on my neck.
Anxiety. Dread. Anticipation. They were like invisible wires, pulling me toward the door.
I moved on metaphorically silent feet, cringing at the slight creak of the floorboards. I pressed my ear to the crack of the door, which was left just a fraction of an inch ajar. I was hiding in the dark, eavesdropping on a conversation about my own value, and I had never felt more pathetic in my entire life.
Then, I heard it.
"So. Noah," Cyan's voice drifted in, airy and deceptively casual.
