(LIAM'S POV)
Beau just kept growling, that terrible, impossible sound pouring out of him, and Vera—Vera who had always been quiet and kind and so utterly beautiful—looked down at him with something shifting behind her eyes.
And then she laughed.
It started small. A low, breathy thing, like air escaping a cracked door. But it built. It grew. It spiraled up and up until it filled the entire room, echoing off the walls in a way that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. It was the kind of laugh that didn't belong in a living room. The kind of laugh that belonged in a cellar. In a crypt. In the bottom of a well where no one could hear you scream.
Violet stirred in Gilbert's arms and let out a thin, distressed whimper while looking at me like he was saying: 'I tried to tell you.'.
"What," Gilbert said slowly, "is so funny?"
Vera's laughter cut off like a sharp knife.
