Scout’s POV
The kiss ended, but the nightmare was just beginning. Standing on that altar, I felt a hollow ache in my chest, as if my very soul had been carved out and discarded. Nixon released his hold on me, yet the bond between us pulsed with a terrifying, permanent energy. It was a heavy, suffocating weight. The deal was struck. My life was no longer my own.
I had just committed the most devastating mistake of my existence.
My eyes scanned the crowd, desperate for a single flicker of sympathy. I looked for anyone who might doubt the performance they just witnessed, someone who knew I wasn't the villain in this story.
I found nothing but cold walls of indifference.
Every face in NeonViper stared back with the same haunting expression: relief. They weren't mourning my loss; they were
