*Isla*
“Rebecca?”
I can’t breathe. I’m trying to get oxygen into my lung, but nothing is happening. My head feels dizzy. My knees refuse to support my body, and the room around me spins.
Maddox’s hands are on my arms, holding me up. “Yes, Trinity looks very much like my dead wife.” The words come out of his mouth the same way that he might order soup or comment on the weather.
“But… but… but….” I can’t manage to form a coherent sentence.
The dream I had the other night all makes sense now. Somehow, I’d subconsciously known that Rebecca would return to being a threat to me now that the contest had begun.
“Isla, calm down,” Maddox says to me. “People are beginning to stare.”
I want to break away from him, to shout at him that if that’s all he cares about, then he can kiss my ass. But
