Even as his breath shortens.
“I’ll kill you,” I whisper.
“You already did.”
His voice wheezes through his broken throat.
My grip falters.
And he laughs.
“Check the room, Damien.” He nods past me. “Go ahead. She left you something.”
I shove him away and throw the door open.
The room is small. Too small.
It smells like her—sweat, tears, the perfume she wore the night I first kissed her but she’s not here.
There’s only a mattress. Stained. Shackled. Cold.
And on it?—
a recording device.
Still playing.
Raven’s voice. Broken. Ragged.
“Please stop. No—don’t look at me likehim.You’re not him. You’re not?—”
Then silence.
Then laughter.
His laughter.
Overlapping with mine.
I drop to my knees. Fists clenched so tight my nails pierce skin.
And then I see the wall.
Carved into the paint.
Six words.
She won’t scream your name anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
RAVEN
The sheets smell like him.
Smoke and sweat. Leather and sin.
Damien.
