The course of true love never did run smooth.
—William Shakespeare
Hadley Grace
"They took too much. Left too little. I had nothing to lose," Sloane whispers, her voice so faint it barely reaches me, like a dying breath carried on the wind. Her words are almost lost in the oppressive stillness of the room, but the tremor in her voice, the vulnerability wrapped in steel, pierces through the air like a blade. I strain to hear her, to grasp the meaning behind the words that seem to carry the weight of her entire existence.
