CINNAMON
"Seems like it." Risa squeezed my hand. "You might think everything that happened is terrible. And it is. But God saved you, Cinnamon, from Dante and his brother. We thought he was different from Marcus, but we were mistaken. They're all the same."
Her words should have been comforting, should have made me feel justified. Instead, they only made me cry harder. Because a part of me—a foolish, shattered part—still wanted to believe there was some kind of explanation. That the man who had tattooed my face on his chest wasn't the same man who had plotted my downfall.
Risa held me as I sobbed. "Things will be okay. I promise. This will pass."
My phone started ringing, and I glanced at the screen through my blurred vision.
Dove.
I hit decline and blocked the number.
It rang again
