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soul, and it had all been offered freely, but it was all a lie and
Coralyn should have said something.
“Get up.” Giana seethed. “Get dressed. Get out of my
house.” The command couldn’t be any clearer. Giana wasn’t
just angry. She was incensed. She was more than just an
approaching doom. It was already there, the end of everything.
Her vibrating rage filled the room like a black cloud that was
impossible to breath through.
She looked over her shoulder, searching the room. For
something. For her clothes, Coralyn realized. She had no idea
where they were.
Giana came to the same conclusion. She ripped back the
blankets and grasped Coralyn’s arm, not gently, but not hard
enough to hurt her. Her grasp was firm, steel around muscle
and bone. Her touch still scorched Coralyn. Even in the midst
of all that anger and raw pain that Giana couldn’t manage to
mask, there was still that. That sensation that shimmered and
danced between them.
I deserve this. I deserve everything.
Giana dragged Coralyn downstairs roughly, but she didn’t
fight. She’d left her purse by the door and Giana spotted it,
hurling her forward. She stumbled, her bare feet sliding across
the marble entrance. She was soaked in sweat and her hair was
still damp from the shower. She’d gone to bed with it wet.
Been put there. So very sweetly been tucked in like she hadn’t
been since she was a little girl.
There was something about that she couldn’t give up.
Something that she had to fight for, even though it was
incredible to realize she was going to do that. Nothing had
made sense since her dad got sick, and now he was gone. Her
