—Ellie—  

    “Wear this,” Tristan ordered, throwing my dress I wore the day I was captured down on the bed. I stared at the black dress, at the blood stains and the tears. I hadn’t seen it in almost two months. It didn’t feel like something I’d ever owned. Nothing I was meant to wear ever again. 

    “Why?” I asked.

     Tristan turned toward me, his dark eyes hard. “Because I told you to do it, Eleanor.” Not Querido. Eleanor. What was going ...