Song of Survival

ROWAN’S POV

The crowd murmurs agreement, curiosity rippling through the room.

Vance extends his hand toward me.

“Rowan. Come here.”

Every eye in the ballroom turns to me.

My legs feel like they’re made of water. My heart is trying to escape through my ribcage.

But Vance is waiting, his hand outstretched, and I think about all the years I spent shrinking. Making myself smaller. Quieter. Less.