“I’m not grateful,” I said evenly. “I’m done.”
I walked past him and out of the wreckage. The smell of ash clung to my coat, the same smell that had followed me from the night my world burned. By the time I reached the exit, my rage had cooled down for a bit.
Fine…call me witch or traitor. But I’d build something on my own terms.
***
Vincent POV
‘f**k her. f**k the whole damn hospital.’
I kicked off my shoes. “Get me a drink,” I snapped at Rowan, already unbuttoning my shirt. He didn’t argue; he just disappeared toward the bar.
Then I smelled her.
Delilah. My fiancée in name only, draped across my couch like a staged display someone had positioned there on purpose.
One leg posed over the armrest, silk robe “accidentally” slipping to show skin she thought mattered to me. She smirk
