In. Out. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
I repeat the mantra over and over, breathing slowly and deliberately, until sleep finally drags me under—where everything is definitely not fine.
I’m walking through that alley again, my footsteps quick and purposeful, when iron fingers lock around my arm.
“Katie Pierce? It’s you.” The man’s face materializes from shadow, his lips stretching into an ugly smile. “You’re going to make me a rich man.”
My heart pounds erratically, my mouth working but I can’t speak, can’t move any part of my body, can’t defend myself.
Move, damn it.Move!
He laughs, twisting my arm until pain shoots up to my shoulder. “Gotcha.” He starts pushing me and suddenly I’m gliding like I’m on wheels. I glance down—therearewheels. Why am I wearing wheels? When did?—
The scene shifts violently.
Now I’m in an office drowning in masculinity. Framed pictures line the walls: Lily of the valley, Azaleas, Iris, Tulips. Each one perfectly placed, perfectly poisonous.
Behind a massive chair—no, a throne—hangs an enormous portrait. Rafael, crowned like a king, staring down at me with dead eyes.
Rafael’s office. I’m in Rafael’s office.
I blink and I’m sitting in a chair, ropes biting into my wrists and ankles, duct tape plastered across my mouth. Emily stands in front of me, and her eyes are cold—so cold I can feel frost forming on my skin.
“I hate you for what you did, Katie. You betrayed me.” She raises a gun, barrel pointed at my chest. “You don’t deserve to live.”
I shake my head desperately, making muffled sounds that mean nothing, mean everything, mean please?—
She pulls the trigger.
Fire explodes in my chest, ripping away my breath, my vision—life itself. Then darkness swallows me whole, but Emily’s laughter follows me down into the void, echoing forever…
I jerk awake with a gasp tearing out of my throat. My skin is drenched, the sheets twisted around my legs like they’re tryingto restrain me. I’m breathing too fast, the darkness pressing in too thick, too heavy.
But it was just a dream. Just a nightmare.
I force myself to sit up, kicking free of the tangled sheets. My whole body aches—from moving that fucker’s corpse, from leftover adrenaline, from a nightmare that felt way too real. I rub my hands down my face, dragging in another deep breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Get it together, Katie.
I can’t afford to break. Not now. Not when everything is this catastrophically messed up. Not when Kayla is still in danger and I’m stuck in enemy territory with so many lies to keep straight.
The pale early morning light creeps in through the window, piercing the oppressive darkness, and I get to my feet. No point trying to sleep again.
I strip off my sweat-soaked clothes, tossing them into the small hamper, then shuffle to the shared bathroom for a quick shower—cold, biting, just enough to shock me the rest of the way awake and settle my disquiet.
Back in my room, I pull on fresh clothes, tie on the obligatory apron, and brush out my hair, catching sight of the dark shadows under my eyes. Two nights of bad sleep, and it shows. I wish I had some makeup to hide it. I don’t want Roan to see me like this.
I scowl, immediately squashing that thought. I don’t care how he sees me.
Idon’t. His opinion means nothing.
I’m still frowning when I open the door, but I paste on something resembling a smile as I step out into the hall.
Though that smile—fake as it is—doesn't last. It fades during the five-minute walk to the main house, slipping completely when one of the men intercepts me and says theshefiwants to see me. My stomach drops, but I nod and head toAfrim’s office, expecting another invitation to play chess or make small talk.
What I get instead rewrites my entire world.
“I’ve decided to move you to another section of the estate. There are already more than enough maids in rotation to clean here.”
