LOGINThe miniature pigs, meanwhile, are surprisingly well-behaved. They waddle directly to the food trough and start eating like nothing dramatic is happening around them. “I like them,” Sienna says, zooming in on one with her camera. “They’re the only ones here with sense.” “Give it time,” I mutter, b
The bruise on my cheek has faded slightly, the angry red settling into something duller, easier to ignore if I don’t look too closely. I avoid the mirror anyway. By the time I sit down at the table for breakfast the next morning, I almost convince myself it’s not noticeable anymore. My mother not
Dahlia Sienna doesn’t let go of me even after we step into the barn. Her hand stays locked around my elbow like she thinks I might disappear if she loosens her grip, like I might just dissolve into the dust and hay and silence if she gives me even an inch of space. “Sit,” Sienna says, pushing me
“Then stay there and shut your mouth.” “Oh I don’t think so.” He’s enjoying this. I can see it in his eyes. “See, I have to say, the rumors are true.” “What rumors?” “That you’re very talented at using personal relationships for professional gain.” His smirk widens. “Sebastian Hawthorne backing y
Dahlia I stumble back a step, my hand flying to my cheek, the sting sharp enough to blur my vision for a second. Arabella is breathing hard, her own hand still raised like she’s deciding whether to do it again. “Stay away from him,” she says. “Stay away or I swear to God—” “Or what?” I drop my h
Dahlia Sebastian’s car disappears past the bend in the gravel road, dust rising behind it in a slow cloud that takes its time settling. I turn back toward the barn, cheek still stinging from where I’d wiped the dirt smudge off his face, and try to ignore the hollow ache in my chest. River and Si







