BRIGID'S POV
The night bled into dawn. Shadows retreated from the room as pale blue light filtered through half-drawn curtains. My joints had stiffened from sitting motionless for hours and even when my chomped hand has regenerated, I still felt a dull pain where I had been diced. Across from me, Riona's face remained a marble mask, her eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond my shoulder. The silence hummed between us, thick and suffocating.
My fingers twitched toward the gun hidden beneath the cushion. A precaution. A gamble.
If it got bad again, I could shoot her. It would work, right? Could a witch stop a bullet with her magic?
I wanted to convince myself that my grit was the reason I was still alive but I knew damn well the only reason I still drew breath was because of the threa
