KATHERINE POV
I knew it the second I felt that prickling on my neck—the kind you only get when a cockroach stares at you from the dark.
I turned around, and there she was.
Margherite.
Fuc.king hell.
Standing there like she owned the world, hands on her hips, glaring at me with that same bitchy self-importance she wore like cheap perfume.
And seriously, what the hell was she even wearing?
A hot nurse Halloween costume?
In April?
Tight white dress, cleavage up to her chin, thigh-highs, and heels that could snap an ankle.
I blinked once.
Nope, still real.
Damn weird.
But I didn’t have time for this bullsh.it.
The priority was clear:
Convince her she was wrong.
That I wasn’t Katherine Hale, the poor half-human girl she had tormented all through school.
I was Kathleen Rale. A f
