Fawn’s POV
I lay back on the bed for a minute, staring up at the ceiling like it might have answers.
It didn’t.
All I had was a stolen life, a very expensive wardrobe, and a promise to burn two people to the ground.
Not nothing. It was something.
My muscles were starting to hum with that tired ache again, the kind that said, Hey, remember six months of lying on your arse? We do. I ignored it and pushed to my feet anyway.
The bathroom was through the second door.
Of course it was gorgeous. White marble, a shower big enough to host a small party, a freestanding tub, double sinks with backlit mirrors. A row of identical black bottles lined one side. I picked one up.
Custom labels. CASSANDRA HUNTINGTON – Signature Scent
“Figures,” I muttered. Of course she had custom perfume. I twiste
