Meluna Lockwood.
Is this it? After two years of running nonstop to guard my virtue and protect what little I have left…is this really how it ends? Because my mate has decided to sell me over like I’m nothing?
My head jerks toward the sound of the door closing behind me. The Russian visitor. He hasn’t say a word, and that’s what terrifies me most. There’s something monstrous in the silence like he’s already decided what to do, and words aren’t part of it.
He drops the bottle of whiskey in his hand and then I hear the door lock. Actually lock.
I shrink, inch by inch, until it feels like my lungs have no space left to breathe. I don’t cry. I don’t have time to cry. My hair falls in front of my face when I start reaching behind my head for the pin I tucked there earlier.
This room is clos
