Chapter 7: The First Cut Always Bleeds Quietest
The guards posted at the west wing didn’t question her.
Not when she showed up just before dawn. Not when she demanded to see Camille. Not even when her tone promised blood if they tried.
Magnolia stepped into the private ward with ice in her chest and fire under her skin.
Camille sat by the window, hair braided down her back, eyes half-lidded and far away. She didn’t turn when the door clicked shut. Didn’t flinch when Magnolia stepped closer.
"You asked for him," Magnolia said quietly.
No answer.
"You remember who I am, but you still chose him."
Camille’s fingers curled in her lap. "He didn’t leave me."
The words sliced cleaner than anything Ivy could’ve said.
Magnolia took a breath, slow and dangerous. "And I didn’t choose to."
Silence stretched between them like a snapped cord.