Chapter 227

• Fern's Perspective
• "Spare them..." His voice was low and raspy, as if the breath had been squeezed from deep within his throat—fragile yet firm.
• Elena laughed softly, her dagger at some point in her hand. The sharp tip of the blade gently slid down his cheek, leaving a fresh trail of blood on his already scarred skin. She leaned in close to him, whispering in his ear, "You really make me sick to my stomach, to have fallen this low. Didn't you always despise me? What now?"