Chapter 4

Iris's POV

I close my eyes and reach out one last time to God, deep in my soul.

[God... I take it back.]

[Three miracles, bought with eighty years of my life, and they're all a joke.]

[I want it all back.]

A voice answers in the dark, calm and otherworldly.

[Iris, if you take back your vow, the gifts you gave away will return to their rightful owners. But the years you spent can't be undone. You'll die, and it won't be gentle. Are you sure?]

I let out a quiet laugh.

[I'm sure.]

[Understood. In twenty-four hours, it'll be as you wish.]

Twenty-four hours. That's all the time I have left in this world.

The next night, Daphne's twentieth birthday party is happening on a private yacht anchored off the coast of the Hamptons.

Julian's security drags me into the middle of the ballroom.

I'm wearing a torn, thin dress, the cut on my cheek scabbed over and ugly, the bone in my right leg still sticking out, every small movement sending pain shooting through me.

The room is full of people in formal wear, and every single one of them looks at me like I'm something that crawled up from the sewer.

Damian stands beside Daphne with a glass of wine, looking effortlessly elegant. Knox leans against a column, watching me the way you'd watch prey. Julian fusses gently with Daphne's hair.

"Damian, Julian, Knox, please don't do this to her. It's my birthday. I don't want to see blood." Daphne stands in the middle of everyone in a custom-made gown.

"You're too kind for your own good." Knox smirks. "After what she put you through last night, she owes you an apology."

Damian snaps his fingers, and a couple of waiters wheel out carts loaded with crates of wine glasses.

They smash glass after glass on the floor in front of me, until the shards stretch out into a glittering path more than thirty feet long, catching the light in cold little flashes.

"Crawl across that, get to her feet, and say happy birthday. Do that, and I'll let you leave the city." Damian's voice doesn't have a trace of warmth in it.

"That's not enough." Julian smiles, and that perfect face of his is full of cruelty. "Daphne's been anemic lately. The doctor says she needs a transfusion from someone with the same blood type. Once you're done crawling, we'll draw what we need from you."

They want me dead. That's all this is.

I'm on the floor, looking up at the three men I once gave everything to save, and I feel nothing. My eyes feel calm, flat as still water.

[Three minutes left.] God's voice echoes in my head.

"Fine." The word comes out cracked.

No begging, no anger. I push myself up with hands already soaked in blood and press my ruined knees down onto the broken glass.

The shards bite straight through skin, down to bone.

I grit my teeth and start dragging my broken leg forward, inch by inch.

Blood smears across the glass behind me, a long red trail.

The room goes dead quiet. Even the guests, who'd been enjoying the spectacle a minute ago, look like they can't stomach it now.

But the three of them just stand there at the end of the path, cold, like they're enjoying a show.

"God, look at her. Pathetic." Knox curls his lip in disgust.

I don't react. My vision's already going, everything inside me shutting down, and every breath feels colder than the last.

Finally, I reach Daphne's feet.

There's nothing left of my hands and knees but bone and torn flesh, glass still stuck in the wounds.

"Happy... birthday." I look up at her face, somewhere between terrified and quietly thrilled, and force the words out.

"Take the blood." Julian gives the order, flat and cold.

Someone comes over with a thick needle and shoves it into my arm without hesitation.

Blood drains fast through the tube. My body's getting cold, and the world starts to go dark at the edges.

That's when the glass in Damian's hand shatters on its own.

He grabs at his chest, his face draining of color, his eyes wide and trembling, and something he can't name starts crawling up from somewhere deep inside him.

"Damian? What's wrong?" Daphne gasps.

Before she can even finish, Knox lets out a scream of pain and doubles over, grabbing his knees like the bones underneath are being crushed one by one.

Julian claps his hands over his face, feeling his own skin start to burn, like there's fire spreading under it.

[Time's up. The vow is revoked. The gifts are reclaimed.]

I look at the three of them, terror written all over their faces, and use the last bit of strength I have left.

"Goodbye."

My hand falls limp. Blood splatters across the white of Daphne's dress.

My heart stops.

And in the last second before my eyes close, I see Damian shove Daphne aside, throwing himself down into the blood pooling around me, shaking.

"Iris!"