101
Bethany's POV
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming roses as I wandered through the garden. It was one of the few places in this wretched house that still felt untouched by Mason's corruption. A fragile little world of green and quiet, where the thorns weren't metaphorical.
I liked coming here when I needed a moment to breathe. When the weight of everything pressed too hard on my chest, and I needed to remind myself that I was still alive, still fighting—even if, most days, it didn't feel like I was winning.
But today, something was off.
A faint, muffled sound reached my ears.
Crying.
I slowed, my heart kicking up. The sound was coming from deeper in the garden, near the old stone bench by the hedges.
I hesitated.
