CHAPTER 144
Isabella stood paralyzed at the threshold of the master suite. The silver shards of the shattered mirrors bit into the tender soles of her bare feet but she barely felt the physical sting.
Her entire universe had narrowed down to the splashing sound echoing from behind that cracked bathroom door.
Someone was having a shower. The thought was absurd; it was utterly insane. The bedroom looked like a hurricane made of knives had passed through it, leaving nothing but ruin in its wake.
How had she not heard this? How had she been slumped against the cold wall downstairs, drowning in a haze of smoke and suffocating self-pity, while the sanctuary directly above her was being dismantled with such brutal, quiet efficiency?
"Lucian?" she whispered as she took a tentative step forward. Her hand remained clamped over her wounded elbow, the makeshift bandage soaked through.
