The shattered champagne glass lay scattered across the poolside tiles like crystalline tears, each fragment catching the dream-light and throwing it back in sharp, accusatory glints.
Mailah stared at Kieran's outstretched hand, her heart hammering against her ribs as the truth of her situation crashed over her in waves.
She wasn't on her honeymoon. This wasn't real. And the man she'd thought was her husband—the man she'd fallen for—was slowly draining the life from her body.
"I can see the realization dawning," Kieran said softly, his golden eyes warm with what looked like genuine compassion. "I know it's frightening, discovering that everything you believed was a lie. But I'm here now. I won't let him finish what he started."
The emptiness inside her was growing stronger now that she was aware of it, like a black hole in her chest that pulled at her very essence.
How long had this been happening? How much of herself had already been consumed?
