Hannah’s POVThe smell of roasted lamb and expensive rosemary filled the house, but all I could taste was the metallic tang of my own blood where I’d bitten my lip to stop the shivering. I was a wreck. My hair was a matted, damp nest of knots, still smelling of the gray mop water Grace had dumped on me. My gown was a wet rag clinging to my skin, and the chill from the floor had settled deep into my bones, turning my breath into shaky, shallow hitches."Keep your head down, Hannah," Grace whispered, leaning over my wheelchair to adjust my collar with a mock-tenderness that made my skin crawl. "And try not to drip on the rug. It’s new."Daniel kicked the back of my chair, a sharp, jarring motion that sent a spike of agony through my broken leg. I gasped, clutching the silver tray in my lap. The crystal glasses rattled against each other, a frantic, glass-on-glass sound that matched my heartbeat."Move," Daniel commanded.He rolled me into the dining room. The light was blinding. At the
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