- DECLAN
I watched her sleep.
Most people look peaceful when they’re out, but Seraphine looked like she was bracing for a hit even in her dreams. Her breathing was shallow, jagged, and her fingers kept twitching against the seat leather like she was trying to grab onto something that wasn't there.
I leaned back, my own chest tight, and wondered for the thousandth time why I was doing this. This was Seraphine Wynther. The woman who was supposed to be my nemesis, the face of the family that had spent a decade trying to bury mine. She was the enemy. Or she should have been.
But looking at her now—pale, shaking, and marked with bruises that made my blood boil—she didn't look like a Wynther. She didn't even look like the "Marielle" that Aiden had tried to brainwash her into being. She just
