Amelia’s POV
I couldn’t stop shaking.
His fingers dug into my wrists so hard I thought my skin would tear. I kept twisting, trying to get free, but every time I moved, his grip only got tighter.
“Klaus, please,” I whispered. My voice cracked. “Don’t do this.”
He laughed, a low, ugly sound that made my stomach twist.
“Don’t do this? This is what I do, Amelia.”
I turned my face away, but he grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His eyes weren’t drunk and blurry like I hoped they’d be, they were sharp. He wanted to be here. He wanted to see me break.
“Stop crying,” he said, like my tears were annoying him.
But I couldn’t. They kept falling, hot and fast, blurring my vision.
He shoved me toward the bed. My knees hit the frame hard, and I stumbled onto the mattress. My heart was r
