IVY'S POV
I could not sleep that night.
I kept turning from one side of the bed to the other, the sheets twisting around my legs as though they were trying to restrain me, to keep me exactly where I had been placed.
Every time my eyes closed, the image came back sharp, vivid and unforgiving. The iron rod. The way it slid into flesh without resistance. The absence of hesitation. The absence of emotion. My chest tightened until each breath felt shallow and strained, as though something heavy had lodged itself beneath my ribs.
How had everything fallen apart so quickly?
A bitter thought pressed forward, unwelcome but persistent. It would have been better to remain in that coven… to endure Father's cruelty than to end up here, bound to a man who treated life as something disposable. Father had been wicked, yes—but Nicholas… Nicholas was something colder. There had been no anger in him, no loss of control. Just precision. Intent.
