The silver needle sparkled under the pale moon, like a splinter of crystal.
"Save your voice, little bird," Vivienne whispered. Her voice flowed like silk, betraying nothing of the madness flickering in her green eyes. She moved forward slowly, the luxurious folds of her emerald gown sweeping over the hardwood floor. "If you scream, the guard outside will tell the staff you're only having a bad dream. And by the time Alexander checks your pulse... you’ll be another unfortunate casualty. A fragile girl who couldn't handle the pressure of the Vance name."
Clara’s heart pounded against her ribs, a relentless pounding. Her mind raced, eliminating possibilities one by one.
The balcony? Too far. The bathroom? She’d be cornered. Fight? Vivienne was taller, armed, and fueled by a reckless burst
