**Elena’s POV**

“Get out.”

The words didn't just leave my mouth; they tore out of my throat like jagged glass.

Stefano didn't move. He stood there, his head still tilted to the side from the force of my slap. I could see my handprint, a fierce, angry red, against his pale skin.

Slowly, he lifted his head, and his eyes met mine. They were dark, wet, and filled with a look of pure shock, as if I had just woken him up from a dream by drenching him in ice water.

I hated how my chest felt as ...