H A I L E Y
The morning light streamed through the window, a harsh, unforgiving glare that did little to dispel the lingering darkness from the night before. My wedding day. A day that was supposed to be filled with joy and love, but was now tainted with fear and uncertainty.
I lay in bed, my body aching from the previous night's revelry, my mind a chaotic mess. Yasmine was dead and it still seemed unbelievable, the same woman who had caused so much pain and suffering, the one who had tried to kill Giovanni, was gone. But the relief I thought I would feel was absent, replaced by a chilling dread that settled deep in my bones.
The stripper's words echoed in my mind, a sinister refrain that wouldn't let me be. She knows. She's watching. Who was 'she'? If Yasmine was dead, who was watching
