Chapter one hundred thirty one

Her face, pale and cracked like porcelain, stretched into a wicked grin. Her eyes—black voids with burning red pupils—fixed on Kendra like a predator eyeing weak prey.

"What do you want?" Kendra stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She darted a glance at the door. "Get the hell out before someone comes!"

Wanda tilted her head, her neck cracking unnaturally. "Told you, didn't I?" she drawled, her voice sickly sweet. "Told you he'd never choose you. But you just wouldn't listen."

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "Five years, Kendra. Five. Freakin'. Years. And you still couldn't make him love you. Pathetic."

Kendra clenched her fists. "It's not over," she hissed. "Marcus loves me. He's just confused after seeing that girl again."