ra

ve oil, alien to this sterile apartmen

ning deep in my viscera. Zane never cooked. In the three years we

lways claimed he was too busy to even order food. He would leave me to starve in

of the bedroom and pa

olled up, revealing the dark ink of his Syndicate tattoos coiling up his

I asked, my voice

ead, he carefully arranged a delicate spr

edge of the plate with a clean towel. "She has a highly refined a

red on the counter, and my throat

k truffles shaved gen

ing against my ribs. "I am severely allergic to truffl

ss spreading down my windpipe. I took a step back toward th

up, his brow furrowe

turning back to the stove. "Order yourself some ta

knew. But after three years of sharing a bed with me, he had forgo

tchen, the air suddenly f

thin plastic wrapper of a stale, emergency protein bar from the bottom drawer of my nightstand-a pathetic stash I kept because he so often forgot to feed me. Then, I sat on the edge of the

vy front door opened w

massive Syndicate bodyguards. She wore a flawless desig

o." Siena's voice was smooth and melodic

nd I had not heard in years. "Only the be

of the bunker door as Zane had locked it while my father lay on an operating table, his life in the balance. I wal

ered a polite, perfectly manicured sm

ppetizer plate and held it out to me like one might feed a stray dog. "You must

ctly what she was doing-she was establish

ice entirely flat. "I do not

ut. The loud crack made

sland, his eyes completely devoid of affection. "Siena is

g with sickening clarity that he was

own the hallway. I closed the bed

the floor. The protein bar sat untouched on the nig

ear Siena laughing, a light, cryst

le whisper; he was pouring her wine, asking if th

rence due a visiting monarch, while I

queezed my eyes shut, but I could not

a nuisance hiding in my own bedroom while he fed truffles to a stranger. I pulled my knees to my chest and let the silent tears fall. But bene