We’re taught to fear the shadows. They skew reality. They hide the light. And I was a shadow. A dark, dark shadow that wanted Genevieve Montgomery to fear me. There was a fake air of confidence that swirled around her like a million-dollar cyclone, and there were skeletons in her closet stuffed with Gucci and Prada that ensured she’d be difficult. I was the shepherd and she was my sacrificial lamb, and I intended to plant a seed of darkness in her that would grow until not a single shred of light was left.