The impact of those words made both of us grow stiff.
The chilly midday air moved so fast that it almost felt sharp against my skin.
Beside me, Sylvia was still staring wide – eyed at the almost blank letter, her brows furrowed in confusion as she turned to face me.
That was when I noticed that she was also pissed. “Is this a prank?” she muttered, reading the last line of the letter again, “You will never make it to the altar? What kind of sick joke is this?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my words caught in my throat as my mind raced. It was pretty clear to me that I had been followed here.
The hooded man and the timing of the letter were far too coincidental to not be connected.
Sylvia frowned as she saw how speechless I was. With a frown, she snatched the letter from my – w
