Two days had passed since the incident with Marcus.
Two days since Dashiell had beaten a man unconscious in the street and carried Reign to his car like she weighed nothing. Two days since he had taught her self-defence with his body pressed against hers, his voice low in her ear, his arms wrapped around her in a way that had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with something she wasn't ready to name.
Reign stood in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the neckline of her dress for the third time.
It was a simple white, knee-length dress with delicate lace detailing at the collar and sleeves. It was classic without being flashy. Her hair had been curled into minimal curls that curved around her oval face and flowed down her shoulders.
She had paired it with nude heels and
