CHAPTER 96
Isabella's vision began to splinter into shards of white and red. The "homesickness" she had felt earlier was now screaming in her.
Lucain.. she tried to whisper, but as Elena's blackened nail sank into the center of the mark, the red lines ignited.
Isabella scream tore through, her back arched so violently that the wooden frame of the bed groaned under the pressure.
The world was no longer stone and shadow. It was a blinding white. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sparking with a pain so absolute it transcended the physical.
But through the white-out of agony, the vision were spiraling around Isabella's head—stripping away the lies like skin from a wound.
The darkened bedroom. It wasn't Caleb's soft, practiced smile she saw in the playback of that vision.
The warmth in the cold. It wasn't Caleb's hands that had rubbed the frost from her skin; it was a scarred, calloused palms of the man she had just renounced.
