• Sprawled on the cold, marble floor, the wound in his chest oozing with blood was Deep. Mortified, I stared at the dagger in my hands, dripping with the red liquid.
    “Why Ciarra?” he whispered with his last breaths, “Why did you?”
    Deep’s desperate gasps finished and, with my acute hearing, I heard his heart stop.
    “Oh, Deep,” I breathed and lent forward. My teeth sank into the soft flesh of his neck. The warm, salty blood gushed down my throat. I felt power flow down my veins. “I’m sorry.”