Emmalee
When Sasha barged into the room and had her goons grab me—again—I found that I didn't have that much fight in me and I wasn't sure why.
Maybe it had to do with the knife pressed against my throat, right above my jugular. They haven't moved it but since we entered Fang's office area, it's been pinching my skin, the pain sharp and uncomfortable.
I guess in many ways, we allowed her to do this. Genuinely? It was stupid to lower our guards when she was around. We made all this so easy for her. How could I have slept when I wasn't sure if she'd left? Why didn't I think of that? I watch her now, striding toward Romain, not a care in the world.
I can't see her face but I bet she's smiling.
Why isn't she afraid? Why the certainty that Romain won't hurt her?
Or is it death she wan
