Windsor's POV
"God, why did I drag you into this mess?" I whispered to Pauline, who sat slumped against the freezing brick wall beside me.
If she knew that just beyond these stones lay the remains of three young women who'd met their fate in this very place, would terror consume her? Without question. But she already carried enough nightmares.
My eyes swept over her battered form, taking in the purple bruises circling her throat, the gash splitting her eyebrow, and the angry welts covering her wrists and forearms.
"Tell me you're okay," I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.
"I'm perfectly fine," she replied with that radiant smile that never failed to ease my worries. "But you shouldn't have followed me here. My plan was simple - leave enough clues pointing to Sinclair after he finished me off."
"Picture it - promising student murdered by respected headmaster. The media would feast on that story."
"That's three complete lies," I said flatly.
