The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became

d in a graffiti-choked alley

d out into the

she pushed open a he

afening heavy metal music vibr

expensive underground tattoo artists in

from his lips as he ster

ng slightly before a familiar

ver and kill

ut of the golden cage," Jett drawled

didn't

t off her shoulders and turned

ced an ugly, jagged path from her l

countless bullet wounds,

rk vanishe

k latex gloves and gently t

Jett's voice was

closed h

ake," she said, her voice e

ted a b

out of a cocoon, using Jett's signature bl

r back, then turn

he spine and ribs... the pain is going to be

own on the black l

the side, a cold, feral

tly what I ne

o life, a high-pitch

f needles pie

ads of blood bloomed

ot straight up Cadence's spi

ather bed, her knuckles turning bo

lower lip until she tasted the sharp tang of copper, a choked, agonizing

he memory of the freezing rain f

t knife tearing through her muscl

e heavy weights t

rbank, and the image of him holding Isabelle

felt like she was physically bleeding o

rs later, the buzz

nd plasma with an antibacterial

l-length mirror

, her muscles trembling f

her back to

ous scar

eathtaking, lethal-looki

ing, three-dimensional texture, as if the venom

er fingertips brushing

es cleared, replaced by

ssed a thick stack of unmarked hund

Jett asked as she walked toward the do

ce pa

lder, her profile sharp a

murmured. "I have a

e Manhattan smog as Cadence

se manor,"

in the Mueller Group headquarters, Frank

dshot, his jaw tig

ng the city apart with his security

knock

fice, her face pale, holdi

ved via courier from Elena Rostova's fir

n spun

the gold-embossed l

is cheek twit

is eyes scanning the aggressive demands

mahogany desk, rattling the e