Sallie's POV
Kane didn't catch my subtle provocation. His response was blunt: "If Jill had half your cruelty, she wouldn't keep getting trampled by you."
His grip on my chin finally loosened, but his voice turned arctic. "Whatever Jill's too weak to handle, I'll take care of for her. Let's see how you face her after today."
He lunged for my clothes.
The fabric tore with a sharp rip. My collar split open, exposing pale skin to the freezing air. I couldn't stop the involuntary shiver that ran through me.
Buried memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead before I could stop it. That voice echoed in my head again: "What a beauty. Are you lucid? No fun if you're not conscious."
Kane froze, staring at the skin he'd exposed.
My flesh was ghostly pale—the sickly white of someone who never saw sunlight. Growing up sheltered and spoiled should have left me with perfect skin. Instead, grotesque scars crisscrossed every inch, a roadmap of old horrors.
