The silence after his words was heavier than the fading storm. Lily lay there, the chill of the damp sheets seeping into her skin, the horrifying completion he’d spoken of curdling into a cold, sharp clarity in her veins. Ruined. He’d called her ruined. And he wasn’t finished.
Her breath hitched. This was insanity. This was her life, her body, not his to claim and discard and claim again. A fragile, desperate courage, born from sheer survival instinct, straightened her spine where she lay.
“Get out.”
Her voice was quiet, but it didn’t shake. It cut through the humid air like glass.
Zachariah turned his head on the pillow. His expression was unreadable, a mask of calm curiosity. “I don’t think I will.”
“I mean it.” She pushed herself up on trembling elbows, ignoring the ache between he
