Page 83 of XV (Fifteen) (War of Roses 1)

Or does it?

Perhaps the thunderous sound is just my heart stopping? I’m on my knees, clutching fistfuls of the sheets in search of stability I’ll never find.

There is no mistaking that ring.

There is no ignoring the blood.

There’s no escaping Mischa.

Your husband is dead.

And so am I.