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31

Asher

No matter how many times I spin the ring on my finger, I can’t find where it starts or ends. It’s almost the same tint of silver as my eye color. The platinum with a black diamond inlay through the middle strikes a powerful aesthetic. Pricey, but I bought it myself. If I’m going to wear jewelry, it needs to be exquisite.

Camila looked blatantly stunned when the priest asked her for the ring. I should have prepared her more. I was busy with other, more pressing plans.

Plans that turned out to be pointless.

The reminder that my trap wasn’t sprung is infuriating. I twist the ring faster, friction burning against my finger. I continue to spin in spite of the pain. Why didn’t Yannick show up? Mila’s intel was rock solid. He knew about the wedding, knew the time, the location, everything. He knew more than Camila.

And yet …

A spike of shame runs through my heart, and I stop twisting the ring. My mind wanders back to yesterday afternoon, to the wedding itself.

To Camila.

I busied mysel
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