The hallway was too quiet.

Too still.

Too clean for the kind of filth that had just crawled out of Cassandra’s mouth.

Isabella stood at the top of the staircase for a moment, clutching the rail as she forced her breathing into something steady. Her palms were damp. Her heart still pounded like she’d been sprinting.

They’re going to take her.

The words wouldn’t stop replaying.

Damon’s calm confidence.

Cassandra’s desperate hiss.

The way “buyers” had slipped so easily from ...