DENISE
The sting on my cheek was still throbbing like a hot, radiating heat that matched the fire boiling in my gut.
My mother had never laid a hand on me before, but apparently, life as the First Lady of the Viking Riders was undoubtedly changing her.
"Don't even think about it, Denise," she’d snapped at me minutes ago, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and her new found authority. "And no silly ideas about sneaking out through the window. If I catch you trying to sneak out again, I’ll have Russo tie you up and beat you myself. I mean it."
I’d just snorted, leaned back against my headboard, and asked her to leave my room.
On her way out, she’d paused at the door, her expression softening for a fleeting second. She walked back toward me and squeezed my shoulder.
"It’s for you
