His Friend, My Living Hell

Kell

click of the lock was the sound of a tomb being sealed. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of

. Then another. My breath caught in my t

med, banging my fists against

nd my body sagged with exhaustion. Defeated, I slid down the door and curled into a ball on the cold stone f

k. The scuttling sounds grew bolder, closer. I felt something brush a

, the lock clicked. The door swung open,

ted in the doorway, a

e said, his

He was letting me go. He had come to his senses. I

tead, two of his guards stepp

I cried, struggling ag

I saw he was holding a small bowl.

tening allergy to peanuts. He knew. It was the

is voice devoid of all emotion. "You put it in

ildly. "Julian, no, please! I

ng my nose, forcing my mouth open. The other took the bowl f

urning to fire in my lungs. My skin erupted in angry, itching h

ld indifference, as I choked and conv

zed, the words barely audible

arkness took me was his cold, emp

e, replaced by the dull ache of a bruised esop

the bed, looking as if

ith disappointment, as if I were the one who had be

my hand. The touch I once c

p. "Did you check the security cameras? Did you ask

ed away, his jaw tight. "The truth is

ion into your father's case, thanks to the negative press you generated. The on

napped up

and you will tell everyone that Fabiola Barron is a brilliant

ng. "You want me to lie for he

ix the mess you

rd a rock in my thro

now. He thinks he's filing a new motion. In reality, he's about to be arrested for p

d on its axis.

. "Unless you do exactly as I say. You have un

A demon cloaked in

Utterly and com

aking but firm. "Promise me you wil

f a second, then nodded. "Do this

my fa

the best care money can b

er way. My famil

, the word a surre