Third POV

Amy stood in front of Flint, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. The night air was tense, heavy with the faint noise of the club still pulsing behind them.

Her perfume mixed with the sour scent of smoke from the nearby alley, but all Flint could focus on was the look in her eyes of fear, guilt, and defiance all tangled together.

“I didn’t poison her,” Amy said quickly. Her voice shook, but she tried to sound firm. “Flint, you have to believe me. I’d never hurt ...