sit. He pointed down the h

the bed." He checked his Role

to the master bedroom,

the door. Her legs gave out, and she slid down th

e gold fixtures, the plush towe

loor she had known for 1,095 days. She took a steadying breath, remind

ch coat. It fell to the floor in a heap. She pulled

e the floor-to-

en g

her full back

t shoulder blade down to her ribs-a gift from a broken bed

ted her lower back

wollen, a grotesque l

shower. She made

am as the water hit her raw skin.

y red. She scrubbed to get the prison o

d wrapped herself in a towel.

the bed w

ilk. Floor-leng

he fabric was light as

dipped dangerously low, exposing everything

ut a dry, hu

xtent of the scars, perhaps, but she knew Imogen had been hurt.

other clothes. Her prison clothes we

d no c

The silk felt like ice against her heated skin. Sh

ed to th

ged, raised scars on her back look even more violent, more grotesque. Her

r rose in her throat, choking

n. You died in that cell. This is just t

out, but she scraped some onto her finger and pressed it to her li

who had already lost the w

d in the hall.

!" Ford

p breath. She

round her as she ste

nks. He looked up, annoyance

died in

, clinging to her emaciated frame. Then, as she turned s

. The burns. T

d. Horror. Pure, unadulterate