Lilia
I didn’t have a shoot today. No, I had one, but I wanted to rest. I settled behind the damask curtains of my private sitting room.
Candlelight flickered over silk walls, casting dancing shadows.
My phone buzzed—Kathrine’s message. I opened it, eyes narrowing at the grainy clip: Kyria laughing with Lassy and Becky by the private firing range.
I mean, is she not supposed to be a s*x toy? Why is she living in the Enclave?
They passed the flask between them, teasing her into tasting the peppered brandy. Kathrine’s caption reads, Look at her looking all happy. My pulse quickened; the clip was gold.
She’d smiled so innocently, glowing and so unguarded.
I leaned forward, tracing the thin gold bracelet on my wrist—it bore my family crest; it was meant to be a promise of power. It was
