Vivienne’s POV

My back presses against the rough bark of a massive oak, and my fingers dig sharply into my palms. The sting is sharp, but nothing compared to the warmth of blood beginning to seep between my clenched fingers.

They look like the perfect scene from some holiday greeting card. Picture-perfect, nauseatingly idyllic. Jonah’s arm rests possessively around Sienna’s waist, his gaze soft and lingering every time it falls on her. And that pest—Lyra—skips ...