Summary
Abruptly discarded by the prince, she was left to navigate the world alone. A voice interrupted her solitude—a man named Nathaniel, who called himself “The End.” His smile was as cold and striking as a winter king’s. When he reached for her, Kyrie refused, yet his fingers still traced her skin with unsettling softness. She bit him in defiance, but he only leaned closer, forehead to forehead, his eyes darkening as hers blazed with rebellion. “Undress,” he ordered, smirking at his torn sleeve. “Try that again, and I’ll see you collared.”