“Love,”it replied.“Power. Choices. Freedom— All of it will be yours. But if you don’t escape this place—”
I swallowed hard. “What happens?”
“I can show you—”
A shadow near the wall stretched and moved, the curtain at the edge of my bed billowed, taking shape, tall and lithe— Pale hair like moonlight spilled down.
Lucian.
“No,” I cried. “No, I don’t want to see—”
I staggered back, and my foot slipped in a puddle—water—no—it was slick and warm.
I looked down, and a scream tore from my throat.
Bastian, pale eyes staring at nothing, lay on his back on the hardwood floor.
Beside him was Valen, half-sprawled over his brother’s body, his head turned at an unnatural angle—
And Titus, covered in blood and blackened burns—
The grimoire’s presence in my mind was heavy.“You might not want to see what happens to you—but you need to see what will happen to them if they try to intervene—”
I fell to my knees beside them. My tormentors. My lovers.
Tears stung my eyes, and I didn’t bother to blink them away as I reached for them. “No— You don’t know what’s going to happen—”
My fingers closed on nothing and the vision faded like mist.
“Stop this.” My voice shook. But not with despair.
Anger.
Rage.
Power burned in my palms and raged through my veins.
“Finally,”the grimoire murmured.“What will you do? Will you let this life happen to you? Or will you take control?”
My hands closed into fists. “I’ll do it.”
“Come back to me—”
I rose from the floor slowly. Painfully aware of every inch of my skin and the rage that churned in my chest.
I walked back to the vanity and sank down into the chair.
The grimoire’s pages turned as though blown by a vicious wind, but there was no breeze in the room.
Without thinking, I slammed my hand down on the pages to stop them.
The blackened silver dagger lay on the scarred wood of the vanity and my hand trembled as I picked it up.
The blade shone in the dim light.
“You know what to do,”the grimoire’s voice was warm and comforting.
“I don’t know the words.”