Eve
I let instinct take over and twisted right out of her way. She crashed into the settee, toppling it over with a heavy thud. I scrambled backward, gripping the shard of glass tightly in my hand, my chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.
Jules—no, whatever she was now—rose slowly from the wreckage, her movements fluid and eerily composed. The eerie smile remained, blood dripping down her arm from the gash I'd inflicted, but she barely seemed to notice. Her eyes tracked me like prey, a macabre glint in them.
"Good," she murmured, licking the blood off her wrist in a way that made my stomach churn. "You're finally learning."
I forced myself to focus, scanning the room for anything I could use. The vanity, the wardrobe, the scattered paintings—none of it was a match for her raw strength. But if I could stay on my feet, stay ahead, I had a chance.
I ran.
