the pure white silk of the wedding dress. It was custom-made, a creation of imp

r than the entire apartment I grew up in before the fire. The seamstress, a small, qui

knot formed in my stomach, a familiar feeling of

de his eyes look almost black. He wasn't my uncle, not by blood. He was my guardian, the man who took me in

s voice a low hum that a

rpet. He dismissed the seamstress with a slight nod of his head. S

ere

ss, of me. His gaze was intense, possessive. It used to make me

e reached out and traced the line of my collarbone, his

s long as I could remember, first as a child loves a hero, and then, as I grew older, as

split second, his mask of calm affection slipped. An emotion I couldn't ident

breaking the connection

e was low, and I couldn't hear the words, but the tone was

denly feeling like a cage. My body felt stiff, my hands c

e fixed on his face again. But it didn't reach

Olivia. You shoul

uggestion. It

r best." He walked over, kissed my forehead l

silence of the room pressing in on me. I finally stepped off the pedestal, th

. He'd fo

ic rhythm against my ribs. I knew I shouldn't. It was his

h was now a twisting serpent o

lit up. It was a message preview on the lock sc

ra

r the same dark shade as mine. She was holding the hand of a small boy who was

ilently on the thick carpet. I stared at it, a

y arranged, tilted on its axis. The air left my