Jessamyn's mind raced as she threw herself between the two women, her heart pounding in her chest. Instinct guided her, overriding the terror gripping her mind. She moved faster than she thought possible, her body acting as a shield for Cordelia, who was frozen in place, wide-eyed and trembling.
The sword in the woman's hand gleamed dangerously, catching the flickering light of the torches lining the room. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as Jessamyn braced for the inevitable strike.
Cordelia's scream pierced the tense air, a cry filled with terror and disbelief. Jessamyn heard it behind her as the sword cut through the air, inches from her skin. She knew, deep down, that the woman wouldn't hesitate—her madness had consumed her entirely.
To Jerrick's mother, Jessamyn's life meant nothing. Without her unborn son, she was simply an obstacle, one that needed to be removed.
