VICTORIA BELLA WASHINGTON;

Earlier this morning in the kitchen, I avoided Vincenzo like he was contagious. Every time we almost crossed paths, I brushed past him as if he didn’t exist. His glare burned through me, irritated by my coldness, but who could blame me? The truth is, I wanted freedom. I needed it. Yes, the sex was incredible—an earth-shattering event—but I was wasting away while he was out there, thriving in a world of chaos and shadows, where being a monster was just his ...