Standing in this barren landscape with a knife pressed to my throat, I knew there was only one way this was going to end—and it would be in blood. One of us was going to die. Whoever it might be, the outcome seemed inevitable.
Arthur’s voice cut through the cold wind. He said he wanted to bleed me dry, but he needed the black witch’s body first. My stomach churned at the thought. Hopefully, he wasn’t planning to do it here, in the open, without her body that he claimed he needed.
I could feel the knife’s cold steel biting into my skin, a sharp reminder of my fragility. The metallic tang of blood—mine—hung thick in the air. Every gust of wind carried it toward me, mingling with the scent of the earth and decay. My heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat that seemed to echo across the desolate
