"Really?"
"He's cruel. Not like Adrian. Adrian is cold, calculated. But Saint—" She shivers. "He likes to hurt things. You can see it in his eyes. And I'm terrified of what that means for—" She stops.
"For what?"
Her cheeks flush. "For the wedding night. For when we're alone. For when he can do whatever he wants, and I can't stop him."
Oh. Oh no.
"Has he hurt you?" I ask carefully.
"Not yet. We're not married. And there are rules about that. You don't touch another family's daughter until the wedding." She won't meet my eyes. "But I've heard things. About what he's like. In bed. About the women he's been with. And I'm—I'm scared, Sera."
I move to her couch, pull her into my arms. "I'm so sorry."
"I don't even want to have sex," she says into my shoulder. "I know that sounds naive. Like some princess in a tower, which is what he accuses me of being. But I wanted it to be special. With someone who loved me. Someone gentle." She laughs bitterly. "Instead, I'm marrying a man who looks at me like I'm something he's going to enjoy breaking."
"Gemma—"
"I'll survive it. I know I will. I'm a Nero. We survive everything." She pulls back, wiping her eyes. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified."
I don't know what to say, so instead, I just hold her and let her cry, let her be scared.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking. About marriage. About family. About the strange lives we're living.
By the time we're getting dressed to leave, I feel lighter. Not happy, exactly. But less alone.
Gemma has become something I didn't expect.
A friend. A sister. Someone who understands.
"We should do this again," she says as we're preparing to leave. "Maybe once a month?"
"I'd like that."
"Good." She hugs me tight. "Thank you. For listening. For not judging."
"Right back at you."
She leaves first, her guards surrounding her as she heads to her car.
I'm gathering my things, about to follow, when I remember I left my phone in the changing room.
"I'll be right there," I tell my guards. "Just need to grab my phone."
They nod, staying by the entrance while I duck back inside.
The changing room is empty. Quiet. I find my phone in my locker, slip it into my bag.
Turn to leave.
And freeze.
Because Gabe is standing in the doorway.
My baby brother. He looks better than the last time I saw him. His face is healed, and he’s filled out. He looks weirdly healthy.
"Hey, Sera," he says. "We need to talk."
