The homeless men surged forward. I held my hands tight, but I couldn’t stop a group of animals. My nails scraped the floor, and they left two bright, ugly streaks of blood.
I glared at them and spat, my voice raw with despair, “Grayson, I regret it. I should’ve let you die on Grayridge.”
Third Person's POV
The second the door shut, Grayson’s chest tightened as if something corrected itself inside him, for a second. Then, convinced his guards had Amara under control, he wrapped his arm around Alyssa and left without another glance.
The wedding day set the whole city buzzing.
Grayson personally called his bodyguards and instructed, “Bring Amara out. I left the dress I chose for her in the master bedroom. It's her favorite. She’s been through an awful night. Have the servants prepare Consommé for her right away.”
On the other end, the guard stammered like a man whose world had just crashed as he informed, “Mr. Locke, Mr. Locke, Miss Wells… she jumped out of the building. She’s dead.”
