The front door was unlocked. There was no scent of Tessa’s perfume, only the
overwhelming sting of bleach trying to mask the copper tang of bl0od. In that
moment, the soldier’s heart inside me clenched, a pain sharper than any bu;ll;et I had
ever taken.
At the hospital, my world coll;ap;sed. Tessa lay motionless. Thirty-one f;ra;ctu;res.
The angelic face I had yearned for every night was now purple, swo;lle;n, and
unrecognizable. My hand trembled as I touched her shoulder—the only place not
bandaged—while Victor Wolf and his seven sons stood outside the door, casual and
indifferent, as if watching a boring play.
