Zerina's point of view
One thing I didn't tell Shea was that I wouldn't go to Lysander's house first. I needed to pack. To gather every piece of myself from that house that had never really been a home.
The taxi ride felt endless and when the house finally came into view, my fingers tightened around the handle of my bag. This place was all shadows and memories. Every brick knew my pain.
No one was home. I knew that. This was the time Father and Florence were always out, either attending meetings or showing off their false perfect family image. Bianca too never stayed home at noon. Taking in a deep breath, I pushed open the gate, and stepped in.
I walked fast towards the front door, ignoring all the guards that stood around. Every corner of this house had seen me bleed. The paintings
