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Bethany's POV

They locked me in like some fairy tale princess waiting for her prince. Except in my story, the prince is a monster, and the damsel isn't in distress. She's pissed off and plotting murder.

I paced the length of the room, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The bedroom Mason had imprisoned me in was too luxurious to feel like a prison, but the gilded cage vibe wasn't lost on me. The tall windows let in the pale moonlight, illuminating every corner except the locked door. My stomach twisted with anger, fear, and something I couldn't quite place.

A bomb. There was a goddamn bomb inside me.

I paused, pressing my hand to my chest as if I could feel it ticking beneath my skin. Was it near my heart? My lungs? Did it hum quietly like a reminder of Mason's power? Or was it silent, waiting for that bastard to decide I'd outlived my usefulness?