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soul, and it had all been offered freely, but it was all a lie and

Coralyn should have said something.

“Get up.” Giana seethed. “Get dressed. Get out of my

house.” The command couldn’t be any clearer. Giana wasn’t

just angry. She was incensed. She was more than just an

approaching doom. It was already there, the end of everything.

Her vibrating rage filled the room like a black cloud that was

impossible to breath through.

She looked over her shoulder, searching the room. For

something. For her clothes, Coralyn realized. She had no idea

where they were.

Giana came to the same conclusion. She ripped back the

blankets and grasped Coralyn’s arm, not gently, but not hard

enough to hurt her. Her grasp was firm, steel around muscle

and bone. Her touch still scorched Coralyn. Even in the midst

of all that anger and raw pain that Giana couldn’t manage to

mask, there was still that. That sensation that shimmered and

danced between them.

I deserve this. I deserve everything.

Giana dragged Coralyn downstairs roughly, but she didn’t

fight. She’d left her purse by the door and Giana spotted it,

hurling her forward. She stumbled, her bare feet sliding across

the marble entrance. She was soaked in sweat and her hair was

still damp from the shower. She’d gone to bed with it wet.

Been put there. So very sweetly been tucked in like she hadn’t

been since she was a little girl.

There was something about that she couldn’t give up.

Something that she had to fight for, even though it was

incredible to realize she was going to do that. Nothing had

made sense since her dad got sick, and now he was gone. Her