Revenge Of The Reborn Omega

was a blur of disjoint

on so real it seemed impossible that, mere seconds ago, she had felt he

and love. His graying eyebrows were furrowed, his golden eyes-identic

t, are you

enly drained f

the dining room as if tra

lap. She clenched them into fists, letting her nails bite

alive! The Moon Godde

he found no bloodstains on her clothes

shock, scanned the room with a

time. The photographs on the table. The aftern

er ripped through her, but she masked it, forcing her

iling face, her stomach violently churned. She had to take several deep, shu

n Hunter, setting into motion a chain of be

ice said, rubbing a soothing

with a gentle chuckle. "Everyone knows y

N

by the shrill, desperate voice. But she quick

e floor, Dyana shot to her feet, slamm

lurted out, her voice trem

esh wave of shock. That reaction and reque

tos, nor at their father, who s

s, and glacial. It was the exact same look she had wor

root in Lysandra's chest. Had Dyana

urice stammered, utterly bewildered. "Tradit

t their father stunned, but Lysandra felt nothing. She had heard th

for timidness, but now recognized as pure theater. When she looked u

impered, thick tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love Hunter Renaud. I always have. And... I think he feels

at the performance, silently letting

e and mercy. Let me choose first.

ce torn between his duty to tradit

, what do

rol of the narrative again, lunging forward to grab Lys

r. Montclair. I... I..." She took a dramatic, shuddering breath, her voi

ealed glare of pure defiance. She was secretly wishi

this stunt in their first life, Lysandra would have steppe

y back for revenge. And she was now absolutely certain that Dyana had also had

least, they were i

than her twin, she met Dyana's gaze dead-on, ready to deliver

ot between sisters who care for each other so deeply," she began, drip

d offered a gentle smile, m

m..." She let the subtle accusation hang in the air for a second. "Then I

don't have to make this sacrifice...

gile smile touching her lips-a little touch of theater to match her sister's.

an Montclair," her father reminded h

n at the photograph

ster. The beast. The man who had slaughtered her fath

and-and in the world at large-an unbonded woman, especia

med worthy of House Dubois. One she had chosen in her

Lysandra's lips. It held no sweetness. It was the first spark of something

save the people she loved. But to do that

the weight of two lifetimes-the one she had already su

e Mr. Mo