Cordelia had been staring at the same c***k in the ceiling of Ash’s room for what felt like hours. The compound was restless tonight—the echoes of the ambush still ran through the air like smoke, men moving in and out, boots on concrete, voices rising then falling. She sat cross-legged on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, pretending she didn’t feel the invisible shackles of her new status: not a guest, not a lover, but a prisoner under Ash’s watch.
The door clicked open. For a split second, Cordelia thought it was Ash, back to hover like her shadow. But the figure that slipped inside was smaller, sharper, with hair tied up and eyes that glittered like cold steel. Violet.
Cordelia straightened, tension creeping through her spine. The other woman closed the door behind her, leaning h
