Mark’s POV
They made me change clothes before we got there.
Some fancy black suits. No tie. No shoes. Just a white button-up and a jacket, like I was heading to a dinner party instead of my own damn execution. I sat in the back of the van, wrists still zip-tied, ankles cut free just so I could walk into this mansion looking “presentable.”
Alice watched me like she was watching her favorite show. No emotion. Just this calm, twisted satisfaction that made my stomach churn.
“You really think he won’t kill you too?” I asked her when she handed me the shoes.
She smiled, slow and smug. “I’m his blood.”
“And he’s a sociopath.”
She crouched in front of me, tilting her head. “And you broke his daughter. That’s worse.”
I didn’t respond. There was no point. Whatever version of Alice I once kn
