of the Goodwin estate

. The cold night air hit her face, co

When Meredith threw the wine, the base of the crystal glass had clipped her knuckle. A de

paper. Good, she thought, her erratic heartbeat finally steadying into a slow, rhythmic thud. This was the absolute last time she would ever bleed for the Goodwin family. Th

eway and flagged down a passi

told the drive

ow. Her heart rate slowed. The anger

unlit alleyway in the Lower East Side. The neon sig

the cab. Her heels clicke

ok what the tra

eth st

ed at the mouth of the alley. He held a lit cigarette between h

and stumbled toward

looked at the wine stain, then at the bloody tissue w

out like the stray dog you are. Eve

t him. Her jaw loc

is cigarette at her feet. He lunged forward, reaching out to grab

ery specific lesson: you either learned how to use a larger opponent's momentum against them, or you ended up in the h

he grabbed his wrist with her good hand, twisted

d her hips

d and eighty poun

All the air left his lungs in a violent rush. He curled into a fetal

a speck of dust off her shoulder. A

u couldn't even last three seconds in bed, Acey. What

outh, but only a strangled gasp came out.

y, the slow, rhythmic sound of cl

ad around, her muscles t

er early, and that a rather pathetic red Ferrari was tailing your cab," Dorian said, his foot