ella
antom taste of smoke and ash. My eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar ceiling, shadowed in the dim light of a sprawling, immaculate
tiletto had been professionally bandaged, the stark white gauze
My famil
ge, the tears refused to fall. The naive, terrified Isabella had burned to ash in the North Wing. What remained was somet
a voice-Caitlin's-low and triumphant. She was on the phone. "Yes, Mother... It's done. T
ght she had won, on her way to claim her prize in Marco's bed. A cold, predatory cla
k door of the suite, opening it just a fraction. Down the dimly lit, luxurious corridor, Caitli
adows like a startled anim
e knob, before she could even register my presence, I slammed my
eavy oak door and yanked it shut, throwing my entire weight
g! B
creamed, her fists pounding against the wood. Pan
ound on my left hand tore open from the exertion, fresh, warm blo
ou're dead!" she shrie
was devoid of any human warmth, a demonic whisper echoing her own cruel
wed by a dark, drug-fueled laugh. Marco. Caitlin's terrified screams morphed into desperate, muffle
torn hem of my ruined dress to wipe my fresh b
d dangerously. I dragged my feet, stumbling back toward the open door of
ng. My knees buckled, and I fell forward,
ever
ng arms wrapped around me, catching me with effortless g
flawless, sculpted face gave nothing away, but his narrow, pitch-black eyes were fixed on me. They didn't hold pity or
hifted toward the hallway, where the faint,
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