Poppy's POV
The fabric is cool and smooth beneath my fingertips, the scent of lavender and forest clinging to it like a memory that refuses to fade. Ally's clothes, so carelessly handed over by her oblivious foster parents, are now mine to command. I can barely suppress the shiver of anticipation that snakes down my spine as I slide the shirt through my hands, feeling the power that it wields.
"Are you sure this will work?" My voice is but a whisper in the twilight of my room, where shadows dance with the flickering candlelight. The walls seem to lean in closer, eager to be privy to the dark plan blooming within me.
It has to. There's no room for doubt, not when the stakes are this high - not when I'm so close to getting everything I want.