C7 The Devil at the Door

Morning arrived like a verdict Isabella wasn't ready to face.

She'd slept in her fragmented dreams of hospital beds and green eyes and Priscilla's cold stare blending until she couldn't tell memory from the nightmare. Now, with pale light filtering through her hotel curtains, she lay still, cataloging the damage.

Jonathan was dying. Damien had kissed her. Priscilla was out there somewhere