I was released from prison. A year ago, I drove a paring knife clean through my childhood sweetheart, Lucian Blackwell. Because he wanted to move overseas. Because he wanted to leave me. I loved him. I loved him so much I wanted to chop him into pieces and swallow him spoonful by spoonful, bones and all. That way, he would belong to me forever. Now, I was out. I was going to kick down his front door, fasten a heavy dog leash around his neck, and put a knife in him all over again. Then I would die with him. But when I kicked the door open, the man I hated enough to grind into dust was crouched in the middle of a ruin, wearing an old shirt washed almost white. He looked up. Those charming eyes that had once looked down on everyone were now red-rimmed and raw. He walked toward me, took my hand, and pressed the shard of glass I had just picked up hard against his own throat. "Evie, welcome home. Can you keep me as your pet now?"