Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
Asher’s face, too close.
His voice, a poisonous lullaby wrapping around my throat.
His promises—sharp, sickly sweet, and terrifying because somewhere deep down… a piece of me believed him.
By dawn, my hands were shaking.
I told myself it was exhaustion. Stress. Nothing more.
But when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
Eyes too wide. Skin too pale. And in the back of those eyes… something cracked and raw.
I splashed cold water on my face, gritted my teeth, and told myself I could handle this. I had to handle this.
But when I walked back into that room, everything in me recoiled.
He was waiting for me.
Asher always waited.
Sitting there like a king on a broken throne, wrists shackled but head held high, like
