They said fire couldn’t touch the stone.
But Alina Thorne had learned how to burn stone from the inside out.
Griffin Wakefield had resurfaced.
And this time, she didn’t run.
She planned.
He thought he could haunt her with letters and threats. But Alina was no longer the girl who begged in the dark.
She was the storm that devoured kings.
Nicholas paced their apartment like a caged animal. “He sent something else.”
She didn’t flinch as he handed her the phone. A video.
Alina pressed play.
Grainy footage. Griffin, sitting in a velvet chair, sipping whiskey. His voice smooth.
“Do you know what she sounds like when she cries?
Because I do.
I carved it into her.”
Nicholas’s jaw flexed. “He wants war.”
Alina’s voice was ice. “Then let’s make it holy.”
Later that night, they met wi
