Pain.
Fear.
Betrayal.
I only saw them for a split second, but the image felt burned into my soul.
The blast of gunshots tore through the space, and a half-sob, half-scream tore from me as the door closed.
That didn’t stop me from hearing a body hit the ground and screams from farther inside.
My father dragged me down the steps.
When we got to the car, he delivered a sharp slap to my tear-stained cheek.
With a choked gasp, I reined in my sobs.
“Really, Laurel, pull yourself together,” he said coldly. “Embarrassing yourself over Gritch street scum.”
He brushed off his suit as I straightened, a single last hiccup escaping before I quieted.
When I’d wiped away my tears, he nodded and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me deeper into his bitter smell.
“I want the best for you, Laurel,” he told me. “Do you know how many girls would kill to become a duchess? The world will be your oyster.”
I hated oysters.
I didn’t want the world.
I just wanted Jule.
But I was alone now. I hadn’t dared talk about what I’d seen in the coffin again. My father had made me go to a therapist, and I’d said I’d imagined it. I know I hadn’t. But it was my word against my father’s, and he wouldn’t hesitate to declare me insane if he wanted.
“Well?” my father said expectantly, pulling back and looking at me. I gave him a watery smile, my face feeling stretched and tight.
I needed to survive.
Because there was still a chance for me to find out what had happened to Jule.
Even if there was the smallest chance he was alive, I’d take it.
“T-thank you, Father.”
He wanted me to be a duchess, and I was good at pretending.
Duchesses stood proud and tall, and didn’t care about Gritch street trash.
So, I didn’t look back at the run-down house as I stepped into the open car door.
THIRTEEN
LAUREL
I hadn’t slept much last night, haunted by dreams of beautiful scents, of teeth in my neck, of reassuring whispers. Then fear shooting through me as gunshots rang in the air. The helpless feeling of desperately wanting to go back, of screaming at them to run, but being bound, tied, dragged onto the ground that was soaked with blood. Then Jason’s body had changed, and instead, it was Ocean bleeding out on the ground, dead because of me.
I’d woken in a cold sweat, nausea swirling in my stomach. And my scent…it was burned and rough, out of control.
It wouldn’t settle.
