Lucas woke to the smell of smoke.For one strange second, he thought the room was burning. His eyes flew open, and his hand clawed at the sheet, searching for heat, ash, anything that proved the memory had followed him into the real world.There was no fire.There was only Adrian’s bedroom light above him, soft and pale, and Adrian sitting beside the bed with his jacket gone and his sleeves rolled up. His face was calm, but not fully. Something hard had cracked around his eyes.Lucas tried to sit up.Pain moved through his head at once.“Stay still,” Adrian said.Lucas turned toward him. His throat felt dry, and his body was weak, but the dream had left pieces behind. Fire. Screaming. A man’s voice. A child crying. The brown-stained handkerchief. The words on the card.Remember the night your father screamed.“My father,” Lucas whispered.Adrian did not answer.That silence was enough to pull fear back into Lucas’s chest.He pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp spin in his head. “Whe
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