ALICE'S POV:
The cold wind howled outside, but inside, it was still. My hands gripped the knife as I worked the blade against the whetstone. Slowly, methodically, the metal scraped with a sharp, rhythmic sound that seemed to pulse with my thoughts. My fingers tightened around the handle, knuckles turning white as the edge of the blade caught the dim light from the lantern. The gleam of the knife mirrored the look in my eyes—hunger, madness.
"Damien," I whispered into the silence, the name burning on my lips.
I set the knife down on the wooden table and stared out the small window. In the darkness, there was nothing but trees, shadows shifting between the thick trunks, but in my mind, I saw him. His face, that damn smile that used to be for me. Once, we were everything to each other. No
