Elizabeth's POV

The photo Jennifer had slipped into my hand still haunted me.

Her warning—choose carefully, little liar—echoed louder every time I closed my eyes. She was daring me to move, to make a mistake, to expose myself before I was ready.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

I wasn’t running, hiding, or waiting for her claws to sink deeper.

Not this time.

I had something she didn’t. Evidence. Proof. Secrets sharp enough to slice through the illusion she wore like a ...