Page 38 of Burned

“Lucian.”

“Sorry.”

I loosen my grip.

I’m holding her too tight.

And it’s never tight enough.

Because the one thing I’m certain is hidden in those messages is this: Erin is in more danger now than ever before.

And Isabel is alive.

CHAPTER FIVE

ERIN

The dead woman is beautiful.

Of course she is.

Call me petty, but that was my gut reaction. My first thought when I saw the grainy footage.

Not because I’m jealous.

Because I intend to survive this, and I need to know what I’m up against.

Stunningly beautiful.

And blonde.

Natural blonde.

Not beautiful the way Bambi is beautiful, all dark glamour and chaos wrapped in designer full lips and her sharp tongue.

Beautiful in the way women in his family are beautiful: polished, sharpened, and aware of every eye in the room.

They call the Bachman women The Beauties.

And she fits right in.

Isobel is beautiful like that untouchable girl every girl envies.

And every man desires.

Pale. Elegant. Graceful.

I’m the girl next door. All of me is average in every sense of the word.

My voice is slightly raspy, my accent a unique blend of the places I’ve lived, and he likes it. It turns him on.

But she probably has the voice of a songbird. She could be standing in a fairy-tale forest, singing to the bluebird on her outstretched finger, just as easily as she could be walking away from a burning warehouse.

Whatever Carlos did to her, whatever she has been through, she is still standing.

And Lucian is staring at the screen like a man watching his past claw its way out of a grave.

My stomach twists.