Adrian’s POV.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking, rubbing my palms together like that’d somehow ease the guilt, the pain.
But it didn’t. Nothing helped. Katherine’s face—pale, hollow, destroyed—was stuck in my head.
Every time I closed my eyes, it was there. Every time I tried to breathe, I saw her.
Two days had passed, but it felt like no time at all. The wedding was tomorrow. My wedding.
I let out a shaky breath, my chest tight, like it’d been squeezed in a vice since that day.
The day I stood there like a coward and let them tear her apart. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t save her.
I didn’t even say a damn word. I could still hear the reporters, their sharp, cruel voices cutting into her, each question like a punch to her already
