Maeve’s POV
"Now get up," I whispered, my voice a freezing draft in the quiet room. "And crawl out of my sight."
Elizabeth didn't try to argue. She didn't have an ounce of fake confidence left. She whimpered, a pathetic, broken sound, as she dragged herself onto her hands and knees. Blood dripped from her split lip, staining the polished wood of my stage as she scrambled backward like a beaten dog. Her manicured nails scraped against the floor, her entire body shaking with a violent terror.
She didn't even bother to pick up her dropped designer bag or the crowbar. She just clawed her way to her feet, stumbling, slipping on her own blood, and practically threw herself against the heavy exit doors. She managed to wrench one open and tumbled out into the dark, rainy alleyway, her sobbing w
