Selena’s POV
My mouth still tastes like ash.
It’s been days—maybe longer. Time means nothing when you’re locked in a cold room with no windows and your own thoughts clawing at your skin. I sleep when the pain makes me, wake when the nightmares do. They blur together now. Dream, reality, memory—they all taste the same.
Bitter.
I thought I had more time. I thought I’d planned everything. The poison was only supposed to weaken me, just enough to look like a victim. Just enough to make them hesitate. Make them doubt Ivy long enough for me to twist the blade.
But I pushed it too far.
Magnus warned me. He always warns me, in his slow, heavy way. Words like chains, soft and cold around the neck. I thought I was ready for it. Thought I could play sick, play weak, and still stay in control.
