ie

ing to me. Damon wasn' t beside me. My heart lurched, a familiar

oaded quickly, a black hole of depravity. And there he was. Th

, a white line against the pale skin of his lower back, just visible above the waistband of his mask. My

o hot together," one read. Another: "They've been at it for months, haven't they? Th

. "God, Damon," she purred, her tone laced with a

e way she whined. It was Katina. My best friend. My maid

rds, but no sound escaped. It was impossible. Katina, my Katina, who had been my shadow, my confidante since we were five years

the "surprise housewarming gift." The words echoed in my head, mocking me. The housewarming gift

into a million pieces. The air thickened, pressing down on me, making it impossible to

ed. It was Damon. My hand shot out, knocking it to the floor. The

livious. The chat scrolled on, a constant stream of adoration fo

old, hollow ache that spread through my entire being. My body felt

was unbearable, but a steel resolve hardened within me

en searched for "private investigator." A quick call, a brief explanation-enoug

ior designer I' d always admired. "Interested in a partnership... relocating... new opportunitie

ly of Katina's cheap perfume, masked by a stronger cologne. He moved silently, carefully,

liar comfort that now felt like a viper' s embrace. "Everything okay,

nt emotion: absolute, searing rage. I closed my eyes, picturing the wolf and the rabbit. Katina. Damon. They