Julian's pupils trembled as Bella's words cut through him like a blade piercing his heart.
"Do you hate them?" Bella asked bluntly.
"Of course I do," he answered, his teeth grinding together.
Night after night, he'd burned with the need to rip his enemies apart, to make them suffer for what they'd stolen from him.
His eyes dropped to his wrist, where that grotesque scar had destroyed everything he'd ever dreamed of achieving.
Every tendon in his hands and feet had been sliced through—he'd never be whole again.
He couldn't even handle the simplest tasks, much less seek vengeance.
A crushing wave of shame crashed over him. He clenched his jaw, fighting to contain the rage boiling inside, barely restraining himself from lashing out at Bella.
Anyone else would've been thrown out by now, he thought bitterly.
Then a delicate hand settled over his.
Her skin was gentle, carrying a warmth that seemed to melt into his flesh.
