ra

he scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.

ing the cold, carved letters of his name

is very spot years ago. I'll come here w

led was late. As I stood by the cemetery gates, a hand clamped over my mouth f

inside a rough burlap sack. Every time I struggled, a heav

rocks and gravel, the rough terrain tearing a

oice. Dante's. And

sabella's voice held a brittle, rehears

e the marrow from my bones. "This will be a lesson, Bel

sliced through the pa

elicopter," Dante

mered agains

sabella asked, her tone laced with t

assured her, his voice softeni

hen, a violent lurch. My body was dragged across the ground,

uppet dangling from a string. I could feel the warm slickness o

kening sensat

felt bones snap, a blinding, white-hot pain expl

s ripped fr

ectively around Isabella's shoulders. He turned and walked

ame out was a choked, bloody laugh-a sound