” She rested the firing end of the cannon against her own temple. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. The old aspect of the place was gone. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. “Anna!” she repeated. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. He was all alone, too. What you said wanted saying. “Now you look happy. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare.
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