That was what Belladonna thought as she neared the back of the house. The garden was filled with budding roses. They curled out of the ground, tangled and wild, and it was difficult to see movement between them, but… Belle did. She heard voices, and one of them was his. It was gentle and teasing, like the wind caressing the petals of a rose.

The other voice was Poppy’s. Belle recognized it as she stepped closer, and relief flooded through her. Poppy must have wanted to see her best friend. She must’ve wanted to say goodbye to him, before everyone was crowded into Raven’s driveway, hugging him and crying. Belle. Lily. Raven’s dad, who was sending his son to the other side of the country instead of fighting for him.

Belle clenched her fists, stepping closer. Raven was leaning over Poppy, his hand on her shoulder, and Poppy was trembling.

She looked scared.

“What about Belle?” she whispered, and Belle realized that Poppy’s fingers were wrapped around the bottom of Raven’s shirt, like she’d been pulling on it. Or like she was about to pull on it. “If she finds out—”

“She’ll kill us,” Raven said softly, and for the briefest moment, Belle smiled. They knew her so well. Knew her passion. Knew her power. They knew she would do anything to get what she wanted, because that’s what you had to do in a world as wicked as this one.

You had to become a witch in order to survive.

Her black hair swirled around her as she stepped up to the roses and parted them with her hands. It was dark. Her hair would help her blend in with the night, as would her jacket.

They couldn’t see her.

But she could see them. Raven’s hand was resting on Poppy’s neck, and he was gliding his thumb across her skin. Poppy’s shaking worsened. “Belle’s not going to find out,” he promised. “She never wants to speak to me again, because I ended things.”

“You broke up with her?” Poppy swallowed, stepping back. There was light in her eyes, the light of hope. It crushed Belle to see it. She felt like her chest was caving in. Poppy was her dearest friend. Raven, her truest love. How could they talk about her like this?

How could they touch each other in front of her?

Of course, they didn’t know she was watching. And the really sick thing? Belle felt guilty spying on them. She’d come over here, dressed in lingerie and a trench coat, to be with the person she’d been seeing for two years. The person she loved. Who loved her.