CLARE – POV
The redheaded guy left my side, just walked away like he hadn't just saved my life—or nearly scared me to death. With eerie calm, he crossed the room to help his sister off the floor. The same sister he had thrown like a broken doll.
And you'd think, with how hard she hit that velvet sofa—any normal person would be splattered across the wall by now. But not her. Nope. She stood with inhuman grace, brushing herself off like she hadn't just taken a body-breaking hit.
And the weirdest part?
She wasn't mad. Not at him, anyway.
She gave him a smile. A smile. Like he hadn't hurled her across the room with enough force to wreck furniture. Then she turned back to me—and her expression shifted.
Pure venom. Fire behind her eyes.
And then she looked to him—her twin, I guess. They looked too alike to be just siblings. Same eyes. Same bloody hair. Same predatory beauty. They shared the same brand of hatred, too. Like they were made from the same mold of spite.
