Leila's POV:
The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering sconces casting warm shadows across the stone walls. I had been trying to lift Chase's spirits with a story about something ridiculous Ash had done earlier, hoping to coax a smile or even a chuckle from him. But his focus seemed far away, his usually calm demeanor strained.
Something was wrong.
His fists were clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow and uneven. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the low light, and his fangs, sharp and predatory, were visible now. I'd never seen him like this before, and a strange mix of concern and fear tugged at me.
"Chase?" I called softly, stepping closer, my heart pounding. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he replied, his voice tight, though I could tell he was anything but. His gaze flicked to mine, and I caught a glimpse of the turmoil swirling in his eyes—hunger, pain, guilt. It hit me like a wave.
