Morning broke over the lagoon in soft layers of gold and silver, the sky still pale with leftover moonlight. Everything looked peaceful, gentle, serene.
Which was insane, considering Isabella herself was stomping across the clearing with murderous purpose.
Glimora waddled behind her, tiny paws patting the earth nervously. She kept glancing back like, oh gods… 'papa' bird is going to die.
Isabella ignored her.
She had one mission.
One goal.
One objective.
Destroy Osiris emotionally.
Not physically — no, no.
She would never waste that kind of energy on a man.
But emotionally?
Absolutely.
Especially after last night's offense.
"Not my type."
Ha.
HA.
She didn't care.
She totally didn't care.
She had never cared less in her life.
(…she cared so much she woke up glamorously angry.)
Isabella had dressed up like she was going to the Met Gala of the Stone Age.
Hair perfect, dress perfect, makeup subtle but gorgeously cut-throat.
