The rain had turned to a light drizzle by the time Natalie stirred beneath my grip. My moment of deadly contemplation vanished as her eyes fluttered open, replaced by a cold, calculating rage that settled deep in my bones.
"You..." she mumbled, touching the back of her head where blood matted her perfect blonde hair. "You could have killed me."
"I should have," I whispered, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "For what you did to Violet."
I released her hair, stepping back to give her space to rise. Not out of mercy—I wanted her standing, facing me, when she apologized for tormenting my daughter.
Natalie wobbled to her feet, using Violet's headstone for support. The sight of her bloodied hands on my daughter's angel marker made my stomach clench.
"Get your hands off her stone," I commanded.
She sneered, deliberately running her palm across the engraving of Violet's name. "Or what? You'll attack me again? Julian will have you executed for assaulting me."
