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I turned my head to see what Logan was staring at with such anger and wariness. Before I could see, I felt a pair of strong hands grab me, hands I knew all too well. Minutes before, Kian had been caressing me, stroking my hair, but now he was rough, violent, as he grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground, bruising me against the hard, sharp stone.
“Wait, Kian!”
But my cry was cut short, as I tasted blood in my mouth. I looked down in shock as the pain began to throb and overtake me. There, buried deep within my chest, was the dagger Kian had shown me the first time we met, with its Winter-carvings on the handle, stained with red blood.
“Kian...” I spluttered, as he stood over me, his face still stone-still, devoid of any expression.
So my dreams had come true, after all. I would be killed by the Winter Prince.
That was the last thing I thought, as my thoughts spun in circles, and then into darkness.
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