AVERY’S POV:
I had always prided myself on being a woman of will and persistence. A survivor. But the moment Axel Blackwood stepped into the room, covered in splashes of blood, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the light, I felt my resolve wither.
He looked like something out of a nightmare. His white shirt was ruined, stained in dark patches, and his hands—God, his hands were dripping with it. I didn’t want to know whose blood it was.
Bile surged up my throat, and I had to swallow hard to keep it down.
Still, I forced myself to stand, my movements stiff and unsteady. His presence had always been oppressive, but now? Now, it was deadly.
"Avery, you will make that appearance tomorrow," Axel said, his voice eerily calm, as if he hadn’t just returned from whatever act of h
