~ Stephano

I paced.

And then I paced again. And when pacing failed to burn away the gnawing pit in my stomach, I started opening and closing the minibar, as if any one of the bottles would whisper to me that she was alive. That she was okay. That she hadn’t been some naive fool out in the streets in a silk gown and coat, alone, with nothing but a death wish for some predator to find her.

God. I should’ve never let her leave.

She’d stormed off in that ridiculous coat, practically transparent underneath, hair a mess, my scent probably still clinging to her. And now, now she was...