FAZER LOGINRowan povBy the sixth morning, I was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching Romy drag her thumb along the edge of the washstand.A thin line cut through the dust beneath her touch.The bruising on her neck had finally started to fade. The deep purple beneath her jaw was turning yellow around the edges, like an old bruise finally giving up the fight. The marks from my fangs were almost hidden under her hair now. She thought the bond was nothing more than a desperate measure to keep her alive, well that was exactly what I wanted her to believe.If she learned the truth too soon, she’d run. She’d climb over the orchard wall, disappear into the forest, and keep running until the poison finished what it had started.She thought I’d only bitten her to pull the silver from her body and keep her alive. That was the story I’d given her, and for now, it was the one she believed.Romy reached for the tin cup on the shelf, but her hand missed the handle. Her knuckles tapped the wall w
Romy POV By the fourth day, the room felt smaller.The fog outside never lifted. It pressed against the windows from morning until night, turning the glass pale and dull.The corners of the bedroom faded into shadow long before sunset, and every hour that passed made the walls seem closer.I lay on my back, staring at the door.Twelve feet.I’d measured it so many times I no longer needed to look. Twelve feet from the bed to freedom.My thumb rubbed against the edge of the blanket, catching on a loose thread. The wool scratched my skin.Somewhere under the covers his scent lingered–cedar smoke, clean soap, and something warmer that seemed impossible to escape.Because he was always here.If he crossed the room, I knew it. If he shifted in the chair near the hearth, I knew it. If he stood by the window, I felt it before I heard it–the bond made sure of that.A plate landed on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed.“You need to eat something, Romy,” he said, his shoulder against the bed
RomyI woke slowly, keeping my eyes shut and my jaw locked tight.Something heavy lay across my legs, pinning me in place. One of my boots was still on, pressing painfully against my toes beneath the blanket.A warm thumb rested at the base of my neck, rough against my tangled hair whenever it moved.Rowan was behind me.His chest rose and fell against my back with every breath, the heat of his bare skin bleeding through the thin fabric between us. He smelled faintly of smoke and rain and whatever hell the Hawthorne ruins had dragged him through.I stayed perfectly still.I moved my fingers first, testing the mattress. Then I slowly dragged my hand toward my waist until I found the button of my trousers, still jammed through the hole with dried mud packed into the fabric.My jacket was gone. I was in a loose undershirt I didn’t recognize, the seam under one arm already coming apart.I kept my breathing even, then I tested the weight behind me again. He was Still asleep.Of course he wa
Rowan pov I was hallucinating.I had to be.Fear had wrapped itself so tightly around my chest that maybe my mind had finally broken.Because the last thing I remembered was dropping beside her in the mud.The last thing I remembered was holding her.I remembered dropping beside her. Remembered pulling her against me.Remembered begging her to wake up.I didn’t remember letting her go.I didn’t remember the darkness that followedBut when I looked up, Liam Mercer was ankle-deep in the rain with Romy in his arms.Her head rested against his shoulder. Red hair clung to the dark wool of his coat. Her arms were limp, fingers streaked with dirt. Mud dripped from her boots.He went completely silent. Terribly silent.“Liam.” My voice barely sounded human.The boy only adjusted his hold on her, lifting her higher.Rain had washed the dirt from his face. For a second, I saw the same boy I’d seen outside the villa. Young. Stubborn. Looking at her with that same awful certainty.As if he belie
Romy povThe ground under my cheek wasn’t tile.For one stupid second, my mind reached for the villa anyway–for the cold marble floors, the echoing halls, the polished prison I had learned to hate with every breath I took inside it.But this wasn’t marble.This time it was wet, broken, root-tangled earth pressed hard against the side of my face. Mud had found its way into my mouth. Something sharp scraped my lower lip when I tried to breathe. The air smelled of rot, rain, and old iron, thick enough to choke on.Above me, the remains of a stone arch leaned against the storm as if it had been trying not to fall for a hundred years and was finally tired. Mist crawled under it in pale strips, clinging to the mossy stones, sliding over my hands, my boots, my ruined clothes.I tried to lift my head, but the pain exploded in me.It came from my shoulder, then my chest, then everywhere at once. A slow, ugly burn spread under my skin, deep enough that it no longer felt like a wound. It felt l
Romy’s POVAt six o’clock that morning, the guards were changing shifts, and I’d been watching the four-minute gap between rotations at the east gate for two days.I left through it in the rain.The rain had started around five. My boots were already sinking two inches into the ground before I was through the perimeter By the time I cleared the tree line, water had soaked through to my shoulders. My chest ached with each breath, a dull, deep pull that had nothing to do with the cold. I kept walking anyway. If I stopped, I wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way. I had known for thirteen years what day this was. I’d marked it every year–in the Waxmans’ spare room with the door shut, in training facilities and airport lounges, in a hotel bathroom in Oslo with the shower running so no one outside would hear. I had never had a place worth visiting, and I had never been close enough. But now, I was close enough.The Hawthorne property sat forty minutes from the eastern boundary–dow
Romy pov"Nira," the mother said, moving toward her."It's all right," I said. I crouched down to the girl's level–before she could pull the girl away.She looked at my face and then at the raven tattoo on my neck and then back at the curl she was holding between her fingers, and she said, with com
Romy PovNobody told me about the household meeting until the morning it happened.Rowan brought it up at breakfast, casually, the way he announced things he knew I wouldn't like while doing something else.“There will be a staff meeting at ten,” he
Romy povThe closer we got, the louder the estate became.Voices drifted through the corridor ahead. Crystal glasses clinked softly. Somewhere deeper inside the west wing, a piano played low enough to feel more atmospheric than intentional.Then the receiving room doors
Romy PovRowan picked a quiet evening to interrupt me and ruin my peace.I had the east sitting room to myself, which had taken effort. Not dramatic effort, just showing up earlier than Valerie and staying longer. Day after day until she stopped trying to wait me out. It wasn’t a grand victory, but







