Page 172 of Ink Deep Devotion

I touch my backpack with the edge of my sneakers. I can grab it and run, find a place to call Dante to come and…save me.

Save yourself, Mila.

“I enjoyed your last drawing,” Camilla urges. “The way you captured the forest in the reflection of the eye made me feel the fear you were trying to capture.” I drew The Cleansing, the tall trees that swallowed my vision when I first stepped into the forest that night.

The room starts to spin. I stand and wobble. Her hands grasp me,“Careful.” Red nails gently grasp me like a mother dog clutching her pup between its jaws.

We lock eyes, and she knows I know.

What I know is still a mystery, but I know she’s not just an art teacher.

Did Avery set me up? Was this all a sick joke to make me think I was free?

“La lezione è finita!” Camilla barks with such a stern tone that the last remaining student stands quickly, shoves his belongings in his satchel, and leaves.

Class is over! She says, but she is still gripping my arm.

I jerk it free, but she sinks her nails in deeper.“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have. Sit.” Her eyes follow the student until the door closes shut. Her hand slips free, but I still feel like her eyes are holding me in place. Grabbing her hair, she twists it into a low bun, using my pencil left on the easel to keep it in place.

“Why did you take your ring off?” She exhales as if annoyed.

Is she working for Dash? Is that why I’ve remained hidden for so many weeks? He knew where I was all along!

I look at the corners of the art room. Are there cameras? Is he watching me at this very moment?

“Is he watching?” I whisper.

“No.”

But she knew who I was referring to!

“Are you working for him?”

“I work for myself.” She tilts her head, releasing a small crack from her neck.“I suggest you become more precise with your questions. How do you know we’re referring to the same man?” Her brow arches; she looks so regal and stunning, like a monarch posing for a portrait; she holds all the power.“But to quell your nerves, I am not working for your husband.”

So she’s my enemy. Right?

I wipe off the sweat from my forehead.“Who are you?” Reaching down, I grab my backpack, swinging it on my front like it’s a shield.

Dash. His face flashes in my mind. Regret, so much it strangles the next beat of my heart, turning my cheeks a wine-stained red, then a pale, lackluster blue.

I wish I could see him one more time.

Is that pathetic?

All I ever wanted was to run. I did it, and I wish I could run back to all of them and tell them I understood. The breath that leaves my lungs threatens to knock me off my feet. I understand now! I know why he could not claim he loved me—for reasons like this.

Enemies.

Dash was and is one of my greatest foes. He knew this. I was the fool who tried to make him my ally.

I think in time, I could have formed an alliance with him, one where he respected me enough to trust me and risk me. Risk is what wins a war.

If only I had been patient enough to try again then. But my heart was too broken to wait, so I ran.

Dash’s entire life was a lesson about purging flaws from your flesh. But instead of tossing me aside, he caught me and married me. Bound me to him.

Why couldn’t it have been enough?

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