Here's the thing about secrets: the only way to keep them between two people is if one of them is dead. If you're not willing to pull the trigger yourself, you best be prepared to have it pulled on you. I learned that lesson the hard way.
My ignorance got her killed. Everything I once was died with her.
From the ashes, something new was born. Something wicked.
My soul was carved out by grief, molded by power, and brought forth from limbo for one reason. Revenge.
I'd been down this road before, with Anastasia always one step ahead.
I was blind then. I am no longer.
The best revenge wasn't instant. It was planned. You studied your enemy, learned every secret they kept, every fear they held, understood them so intimately that you began to pity them. It was then that you struck. I wanted her to suffer.
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