Cassandra's POV
I spotted her the moment she walked in—Aurelia Monroe, the woman who had somehow survived my cousin Victor's attempt to drug her. She looked surprisingly composed for someone who should be a shattered wreck by now, her emerald eyes scanning the exclusive club with quiet confidence.
"Is that her?" Isabelle hissed beside me, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my arm.
"Yes," I confirmed, taking another sip of my martini. "Julian's mate."
Isabelle's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She doesn't deserve that title. Look at her, acting like she belongs here."
I knew that look in Isabelle's eyes. It meant trouble. The kind I usually enjoyed watching unfold.
"Remember what happened last time someone cornered her?" I warned, though my tone suggested I wasn't actually concerned. "Your mother said to be careful."
Isabelle tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'm not afraid of her. She's nothing."
