Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,103

dress and matching red heels.

Something’s wrong.

Pressing the heels of my palms against my temples, I take deep breaths and force the spinning circles in my head to slow down. I’ve lost time before, but this feels different, so I count backward from ten, trying to remember how I ended up in the kitchen.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Five… I remember going to Silverline Studios, but I can’t remember why. There’s a wall blocking last night from today. It’s as if it never happened. Four. Three. Two...

“Oh my God.” Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I claw at my body, desperate to rid it of its tainted skin. I feel his hands on my throat. His weight on my chest. The scream I let out is inhuman, a wail of pain torn from the depths of my soul.

Crawling to the cabinet, I turn and collapse against it as my phone catches my eye. With nothing left inside me, I wrap my fingers around it, hot tears pouring down my cheeks.

Even as I dial the number, I know he won’t answer. It doesn’t matter. I still leave a message. “Dominic. Please, I need you.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Dominic

It takes about five and a half hours to drive from Phoenix to Los Angeles. After hearing Angel’s message, I make it in four. I weave my Harley in and out of traffic like I’m threading a fucking needle, the whole time choking the life out of the handlebars and wishing they were Rosten’s neck.

I warned him.

Now, I’m going to kill him.

I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life behind bars, or if I fry in the chair. I’ll go to either with a clear conscience and not one damn regret.

That’s not true.

I’ll always regret leaving her alone. For wallowing in my own grief and putting three hundred and seventy-two miles between us. For letting my biggest fear become reality. For giving Rosten the chance to take the only thing left in this world I care about.

No. That I love.

Once I’m through the gate, I barely make it into the garage before everything becomes a blur, and I’m standing outside the elevator, jabbing the call button over and over until it finally arrives.

Then I pace the four walls like a caged animal, my teeth bared and my predator instinct hungry for the kill. I think of all the ways I can make him suffer. I want to remember his screams. I want them burned into my soul.

As soon as the doors open, I’m on the hunt. “Angel?” I yell, because I don’t give a fuck anymore. Let them ask. I’m going to prison anyway. “Where are you?”

Hilda slides in front of me out of thin air, and I growl, circling around her. “Get out of my way.”

“She’s in the kitchen,” she calls after me, and I pause, glancing over my shoulder. The moment our eyes lock, she nods. “She won’t let anyone near her. We tried, but it’s only you who could ever save her.”

Gritting my teeth, I head toward the kitchen when she calls out again.

“Dominic.” I pause mid-step, my fists clenched by my side. “The mind can be a prison,” she says quietly. “Sometimes the only escape is to surrender freedom.”

I don’t stop to analyze what that’s supposed to mean. I have a singular focus and that’s all that matters as I continue toward the kitchen.

“Angel, I…” I freeze the minute I see her. I want to hold her in my arms and shield her against the world. But I can’t. The world has already eaten her alive and spit her out. All I can do is stand there and breathe through the black fury burning in my veins.

She’s sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter like a broken doll. Although she’s in a beautiful red dress, what’s behind it is damaged. There’s no spark in her eyes. No life.

I approach her slowly, afraid to speak and afraid not to. When I call her name again and she doesn’t respond, I do the only thing I can think of. I bend down and scoop her into my arms. Angel’s head lolls against my chest, her arms hanging listlessly by her side as I carry her out of the kitchen.

Lars hands me the keys to one of the cars in the garage because I’m done with servants and mansions and pretending to be people we aren’t.

It’s over.

It’s all fucking over.

Halfway to Cedars-Sinai, it dawns on me I’m driving Alexandra Romanov to the hospital. It’s