Marcello's POV
Damn it.
That deranged woman finally got to her.
Rebekah. That name alone made my jaw clench. I could see her fiery silhouette just beyond the corridor, her voice a venom-laced lullaby winding its way into Lyra’s unsuspecting ears. My blood boiled. Only the heavens knew what poison she was whispering. I couldn’t let her think she was special. Not Lyra. Not the slave I hadn’t yet broken.
I turned on my heel, boots slamming against the marble floor of the estate. The guards flinched when they saw the thunder in my eyes. I brushed past them, my stride long, calculated—each step meant to erase every word Rebekah dared plant in Lyra’s naive head.
As I approached the grand hall, my voice thundered across the walls like a coming storm.
“LYRA!”
Both of them turned.
Lyra’s ey
