Page 36 of Break Her Heart
It hurt more than the knife ever could.
* * *
The great room was alive again.
Music swelled beneath the chandeliers, every note laced with menace. The vampires twirled across the marble floor like predators in silk, laughing too loudly, moving too smoothly. Everything shimmered with opulence and violence.
We sat on the thrones overlooking it all. I adjusted my posture, spine straight, chin high, pretending the conversation we’d just had hadn’t gutted me.
August sat beside me, a statue of tension. His gaze swept the room with precision, but his hand gripped the throne’s arm like it might splinter beneath his fingers.
“I am not letting you out of my sight now,” he said under his breath.
“That happened with you sitting right next to me, August.”
His jaw flexed. No comeback.
“I’ve learned my lesson. I will not be unarmed here.”
He turned, slowly, his eyes scanning my face. “How much did you pull from Lavina?”
I tilted my head, letting the candlelight catch the wicked glint in my eyes. I said nothing. Instead, every candle in the room flickered—flames dancing in unison.
His voice dipped into something darker. “Winnie. It is for your best interest that no one else finds out.”
“They won’t.” My lips curved. “Unless I am provoked.”
His eyes lingered on me for a long moment.
I turned back to the dancers, catching a glimpse of Lavina and Simon tucked in the corner, their eyes on me. Let them look. Let them wonder what I was capable of.
Let them be afraid.
11
Bronwen
August and I spent the next few days looking further into the journal, but the deeper we went in, the less we understood. And the words he could decipher didn’t align with what we had already learned.
August had taken me to Carrow’s old chambers, and the moment I stepped inside, I felt the weight of it—everything was spotless and perfectly in place, as if Carrow had only stepped out for a moment. The curtains were neatly drawn back to let in slivers of light, illuminating polished furniture and immaculate floors. I scoured the room for anything that felt magical, hoping I could find the blade—or whatever object was used in the ritual.
The only thing that called to me was August.
August had given me nothing but mixed signals since we had gotten here. One minute he was rubbing his hands on me to put his scent on me, and the next he ignored me for hours. He wouldlean in a little too close or stare a little too long and then his expression would shift into something close to disgust.
He had always been confusing, but now I wasn’t sure if he was fighting himself or had finally shown how he truly was.
Like what he had been before was all an act.
But I knew better.
I almost wanted to try to talk it out with him, to push past the way we both betrayed each other, but then the wedding would come up and anger overpowered every other emotion I had.
He knew this was the last thing I would want, and he was going to do it anyway.
But that was tomorrow.
Today, we needed to work on the journal more. But we had combed through every page over and over again and found nothing.
