Moira's POV

Victoria stands over me with the witch's blood still dripping from her dagger, that familiar cruel satisfaction twisting what's left of her ruined features. The silver blade hovers inches from my throat, warm and slick with fresh death.

"Finally," she wheezes, her destroyed voice thick with triumph. "No more interruptions. No more orders from men who think they can control me."

The chains burn against my wrists, silver eating into ...