ella

heavy drapes of the guest room, offering no warmth. I dressed quickly in my old navy dress and

argas stood by the counter. He didn't greet me. Instead, he placed a single plate on a small corner tabl

rigid, his face an unreadable mask. "Mr. Moretti's trus

counts in the armored car last night. Damiano was pushing me, searching for the bre

d bread, and took a bite. It tasted like ash and bi

sip of the terrible coffee. "I can cook on the stove from now on.

d. I didn't know then that somewhere in the dark library, Damiano was listening to ever

boxes and the lingering scent of my past life. I ignored the clutter, focusing entirely on carefully placi

open, hitting the wall

ay

ingly receding further in his rage, clu

aper onto the table. The headline screamed about my s

Brayan," I said, zi

that cripple just to get back at me? You threw a tantrum and tied yourself to a p

I didn't know I possessed. Damiano might be a dangerous st

my arm to drag me closer. "You're coming with me. I w

n college, I twisted my arm sharply against his grip, stepped in

ard. His heel caught on a loose floorboard, and he crashed

thetic, arrogant man I had almost ma

voice cold, steady, and echoing with a newfound author

suitcase, stepped over his sprawl