a's

ed on the edge of my mattress, a silver needle and thread resting steadily in my hands. I was just finishing the final alteratio

ature vanilla perfume rolled off him, fouling the air in my bedroom. V

rame, looking down at the w

was eager to finally become his wife now that the Gala was over. Bec

next door first. She gets frightened in the dark after all

ined s

e precise point where the

s boots scuffing the floorboards a

a sudden, volatile fury

" he accused, his voice dripping with condescension. "Afte

the silk one last time, th

y skin, and severed the final red thread on the gown. Sni

e foot of my bed. The brass latches clicked shut, sealing the sce

id I look u

a flat, even line. No tears. No hysterics. Just the

ked the ancient Syndicate laws of severance, speaking the blood‑sworn words of rel

stunned fo

, a knot of muscle bun

voice echoing off the high ceiling. "You've be

rt acting like a proper Underboss's wife. You think anyone el

walked over to the door

et out. One gesture. My

e, his pride a ra

out into

e at the estate gates tomorrow morning to greet my mother, Car

t tremble. I did not cry. I picked u

s do

efore I could se

I'm alread