fabric sometimes does, but rough and jarring. She lay there stiff in the dark, heart beating too fast. Whatever happened just now, it wasn't a nightmare.

und, nothing aching. And the nightgown clinging to her wasn't even hers. Not just

close, furniture shoved into the wrong spots, window on the wrong wall, ceiling uncomfortably low. She could walk the east win

n the vanity. An open wardrobe gaped across the room, letters stacked on the desk in neat, unfam

nuckles went white. Breathe, she to

ge, before the Syndicate turned her life inside out, before Damian Voss

hut. She knew that wax. And then the memory crashed in: the contract. All thos

The cold, trained part of her-the one used to deals a

anded here-maybe in her younger body, on this exact night-b

lf. Almost familiar, but not quite right. Softer, no dark circles, hair still untouched-

taring back-nineteen, just be

o the wood until she th

looking away, Damian by her side as everything unraveled. When the dust settled

ook time, and she knew better than to drea

ront of worse, sh

ime she'd been knocked down, she'd crawled out again-even when vict

wax. Three years sat between her and the ballroom, bet

ough, as long as s

Bianca selling out anyone for a chance, Nikolai lurking, Silas w

r masks. She'd wandered into tr

erself right into disaster. Never again. Love and loyalty were easy to forge, eas

thing untouched, hers. She could play along-let them s

e showed no scars yet, but she could see the anger, the edge-everythin

's what sh

Lucia-her little sister, sixteen, still limping from that summe

this

herself breathe. She wasn't ready to see anyone yet.

already twisted toward tomorrow and her wedding. Last time, that walk felt like surrender. Now sh

s right now. Sharp, amused, always watching. It wasn't respect he had for her-only curiosi

she'd sign it-and this time, her eyes would be wide open. Enemies would get

e and rolled it back and

uth twisting into something too sharp fo

ene wasn't waiting for morning. For the first ti