I hit the stone floor hard enough to rattle my teeth. Pain shot through my ribs, my burned thigh screaming, but the shock only lasted a heartbeat.
Then I saw him.
Devon Warner stood on the podium in Simon's place, black suit hugging every lethal inch of him, that faint white scar on his throat glowing under the torchlight like a taunt.
My lips curved before I could stop them.
A smirk.
"I knew you wouldn't just die like that," I said, voice rough but steady.
He tilted his head, eyes glittering like winter steel. "Of course not, my love. Your cut was just… too weak to put me to sleep forever."
He cocked a brow. "Maybe a second try would work."
I pushed up on my palms, sitting back on my heels. "You want me to kill you again?"
Devon's smile was slow, filthy, devastating. "Why not? I don't mind dying in your hands again."
A chill crawled up my spine, but I didn't look away. I finally let my gaze sweep the hall.
