Chapter 71 Baptism Of Blood

• The metallic scent clung to her skin, worming its way into her lungs no matter how deeply she breathed. The knife was still in Ivy’s hand, slick and heavy with crimson, and for a long moment she could not move. Her heart pounded, her chest rose and fell in uneven heaves, but she could not tear her gaze away from the body slumped across the mahogany desk.
• The man’s eyes were still open, glassy now, staring at nothing. His lips were parted, the brandy glass shattered at his feet. A moment ago he had been breathing, sneering, alive. And now he was not. Because of her.
• Damien’s hand closed around her wrist, not harsh but steady, grounding. His voice was low, almost reverent, as he said, “Look at me, Ivy.”