LEAH’S POV
Uriel Thorne stands at the center of the quiet corridor, right in front of the double glass doors of the botanical center wearing the dark navy S-Class uniform, tailored to absolute perfection.
His pale silver hair is cut short, catching the sharp afternoon sunlight, and his hands are folded neatly behind his back.
My heart drops into my stomach like a lead weight. Every instinct in my body screams at me to turn around and run in the opposite direction.
My left side aches again with phantom pain, remembering the brutal force of his hand throwing me across the room in my past life.
I can feel the exact spot where my ribs cracked. I can hear the dull crunch of my bone hitting the concrete pillar. I can taste the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth while I lay on the fl
