Zoya Pov.
The heavy click of the lock seals me inside. Silence rushes in to fill the space Roman left behind, thick and suffocating. I press my back against the wood for a single heartbeat, closing my eyes. The townhouse feels different now. It’s still mine, but feels less homely. The silence is deafening as I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. I was removed in such a hurry that I didn’t even get to clean up from my last meal here. The frozen pizza.




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