Chapter 89 Eighty-Nine.

OLIVIA'S POV.

The sheer aura radiating from his side of the table makes the air feel ten degrees colder. It’s a heavy, suffocating pressure that smells faintly of old iron and dried blood.

“Sit, Olivia,” Isadora instructs softly, gesturing to the empty wooden chair opposite the monster.

I swallow...

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