~~Damon~~
Caleb’s bodyguard drags a struggling Claire into the basement, and all I can do is groan.
Goddammit, Claire.
I had been hoping—praying, even—that when Caleb said Claire was coming, he was bluffing. But here she is, being hauled in like some captured rogue, her hair wild, her face flushed with anger, her eyes burning with that reckless stubbornness I know too well.
This puts a hold on everything. I’ve been working at the ropes binding my hands since yesterday, gradually weakening the fibers against the sharp edge of a nail protruding from the wooden post behind me. I was close—so close—to snapping the last few strands. But now? Now I have to rethink everything.
Because whatever I had planned, it sure as hell didn’t involve Claire.
The second bodyguard still has a knife press
