sit. He pointed down the h
the bed." He checked his Role
to the master bedroom,
the door. Her legs gave out, and she slid down th
e gold fixtures, the plush towe
loor she had known for 1,095 days. She took a steadying breath, remind
ch coat. It fell to the floor in a heap. She pulled
e the floor-to-
en g
her full back
t shoulder blade down to her ribs-a gift from a broken bed
ted her lower back
wollen, a grotesque l
shower. She made
am as the water hit her raw skin.
y red. She scrubbed to get the prison o
d wrapped herself in a towel.
the bed w
ilk. Floor-leng
he fabric was light as
dipped dangerously low, exposing everything
ut a dry, hu
xtent of the scars, perhaps, but she knew Imogen had been hurt.
other clothes. Her prison clothes we
d no c
The silk felt like ice against her heated skin. Sh
ed to th
ged, raised scars on her back look even more violent, more grotesque. Her
r rose in her throat, choking
n. You died in that cell. This is just t
out, but she scraped some onto her finger and pressed it to her li
who had already lost the w
d in the hall.
!" Ford
p breath. She
round her as she ste
nks. He looked up, annoyance
died in
, clinging to her emaciated frame. Then, as she turned s
. The burns. T
d. Horror. Pure, unadulterate
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