Wren felt despair clawing at her chest, tangled with a rage so sharp it nearly blinded her. In this world, only she was allowed to lay a hand on her beautiful Hazel.
Whether Hazel loved her or loathed her didn't matter—she was hers. Solely hers. The thought of Angard's touch on Hazel's skin made her blood boil until her hands shook. She wanted to tear him apart, piece by piece, and make him regret ever breathing near her woman.
Her mind was now being driven by pure rage, her brain stopped working and could only push forward, then suddenly, A call, Unknown ID...
Irene, in contrast, sat in her office, her phone pressed to her ear as she issued orders like a commander in war. She was calm, efficient, and deadly in her own way. She understood how crucible Hazel was to Wren and as her number one Fan in the world she will do anything for her.
