Severin wiped Isolde's unconscious body with a damp cloth he had wrung out earlier, carefully cleaning the blood and filth from her hands.
Her fingers were caked with dirt, the dried blood under her nails turning a dark, crusted brown. Blood that Severin suspected belonged to some of Lucien's men—those she'd managed to kill with her own hands during the two months she was kept prisoner.
Isolde still hadn't woken up, and Severin had barely left the Velvet Cage since he got her back—except once when he buried their son.
He didn't use the same house as before. Couldn't. Not after its location was compromised. He used one of his other properties that hadn't been touched. There was no way in hell he'd let the enemy trample on his son's grave.
