"No! Lena, stop!"
. I was reaching out, my fingers clawing at the air, but the distance between us felt like an ocean of tar. Lena was there, her blonde hair matted with the blood from that night on the marble floor, but she wasn't dead. She was grinning, her fingers dug deep into Hildegard's small shoulders.
"She's mine! Give her back!" I screamed, the words tearing at my throat. "Bring her back to me!"
Lena didn't flinch. She just let out that dry, haunting chuckle. With a violent shove, she pitched the crying girl forward—straight into the waiting, cold arms of Magda.
Magda caught Hildegard, her silver-ringed fingers sinking into the girl's skin as she pulled her back into the shadows.
"This child belongs to me now," Magda hissed, her eyes glowing with a wicked, triumphant fire. "You have your son, Aurielle. But the girl? The girl is the price of your survival."
"Give her back!" I shrieked, lunging forward. "She isn't safe with you! Magda, please—she's mine! She's—"
