Chapter 60 Blood In The Sand

• The sun had barely risen over the cliffs of Santorini, painting the whitewashed walls of the safehouse in faint gold, but the morning carried no warmth. The sea below was restless, waves crashing against the jagged rocks as though mirroring the turmoil simmering within the house. Ivy stood on the balcony, the salty wind tangling through her hair, her hands gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white.
• Sleep had not come for her the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of the gala, of blood staining marble floors, of the video that had been sent—her face battered, broken, bound to a chair. She could almost hear the distorted voice behind the threat, whispering in her ear. It was a warning, but more than that—it was a declaration. Someone wanted her destroyed, not just killed, but broken until there was nothing left of her but whispers in Damien’s memory.
• She knew Damien had been awake too. She had heard his footsteps pacing through the safehouse, heard the door of the surveillance room open and close more times than she could count. His mind never rested, and in those hours when the night was thickest, Ivy wondered whether it was his enemies that haunted him, or the sight of her standing tall in the fire he thought would consume her.