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Gray eyes glimmer with tears, and I can’t look away. They well along her lashes as she fights to hold them back.
I want to keep her. Bury her somewhere evil can’t reach. But my girl deserves to soar.
She ran from purgatory only to be dragged into my hell. Let her fall into heaven where the suffering will end.
Long nails dig into my skin, bringing fresh pain to old wounds. Her fight is exhilarating.
Strangled breaths beg for mercy. She’s endured enough. Our paths crossed because the world is nothing but cruel.
Love is surrender. The drop. The beautiful, terrible fall.
“Can you fly, angel?”
Her eyes widen as I let go of her neck. Disbelief for a moment.
And then—peace.
CHAPTER 1
ZAIYA
FOUR DAYS EARLIER
The moment my spit hits his eye, I figure I have fifteen minutes to live. Every rule Mother carved into me led to tonight.
Smile, Zaiya. Nobody likes a difficult girl.
She shaped me into a vision for my potential husband. And I just ruined everything.
After dinner, my father put us in his office as if the whole thing were a business arrangement, my future reduced to a contract and handshakes between men. All to serve his campaign for governor.
I stare at my trembling hands as if they were weapons. As if they belonged to some other girl. One braver, or perhaps more foolish. I didn’t know I had that kind of defiance in me.
When he wouldn’t stop, when pushing him away did nothing, something inside me snapped.
The second I drag my gaze up, I’m faced with the atrocity I committed. Saliva clings to the right eyelid of the senator’s son, and he stands there stunned, caught with me in this moment I can’t take back.
When he wipes it away, his eyes find mine, and the look in them burns hotter than anything I have ever felt.
“You… fucking… bitch.” Each word comes sharp and slow, making me feel every syllable.
My chest tightens to the point it might implode. The grandfather clock continues its steady ticking, each second carrying me closer to disaster.
He steps back, barely containing a wave of fury.
“Wait ‘til my dad hears about this.”
My stomach drops. I should stop him before he gets away. I should fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness, strip off my dress and offer myself up for his evaluation, all while hoping I might still be chosen.
But I can’t move.
I stand rooted to the spot until he leaves the room.
When he’s gone, my body finally gives way, and I catch myself against the solid desk.
The ridiculous pink dress Mother chose is too tight, not meant for a woman’s body. Tattered lace at the neckline hangs torn, the delicate pattern broken by Toby’s hands. I tug at the bodice, desperate for air, but it does nothing to ease the pressure building inside me.
There’s nowhere to run. Even the thought of stepping outside feels forbidden. It’s a world that doesn’t belong to me.
