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This was desperation. Heartbreak. Longing. An endless yearning that could never be satisfied.

As he clutched my face, his blood dripped from the wound on his arm onto my collarbone.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The world stilled.

For a moment, time itself seemed to freeze as I let him kiss me with the desperation of a thousand men.

He held me firmly against him, the coppery scent of his blood mingling with the closeness between us.

It was both a comfort and a horror. Because what the fuck was happening? And why was I letting it? I couldn’t let this continue.

This kiss was everything I’d wanted for thirteen years, but it was also a broken echo of what we could have been without an ocean of betrayal between us.

But then… had he betrayed me?

If what he said was true, then everything I believed was a lie.

EVERYTHING.

And if he’d only just learned about the Order and what happened to me, then who was Blackwood? Who had I turned to in my greatest moment of need?

I had been convinced Blackwood was Severin because I had needed him to be.

My world was tilting on its axis, and instead of trying to make sense of it, I let Severin Volkov—the man I’d once loved—keep kissing me.

I wanted this so badly. I wanted to devour him, hold him, and keep him forever.

But it had to stop. I couldn’t do this. Any of this.

Fuck.

It had to stop.

I pushed him away, and before he could catch me or pull me back, I disappeared into my void form.

Invisible once again.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Xeniya, no. Please don’t go.”

Tears streaked down my cheeks as I walked through the wall and fled as fast as I could, running from my confusion and the truth I already knew deep in my heart.

But I didn’t get far—only to the other side of the wall—before I broke down, because Severin Volkov wasn’t an Order member, and he hadn’t betrayed me.

But did any of it matter?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Xeniya Morozova

Age 35