Chapter 12— A personal vendetta

Kyra

The warmth of something firm pressed against me like a shield grounding me in place. My lashes fluttered open, my mind foggy struggling to claw back memories through the haze of sleep.

It took me a moment to remember where I was.

The letter.

The terrace.

The drinks.

Tristan.

It all came rushing back and my heart gave a traitorous thump. I shifted slightly, and that was when I realized that the warmth was not a blanket. But Tristan.

He was ...