Her breath shook against the receiver.
“You can’t escape who you are. Not with her. Not with anyone. And don’t kid yourself—whatever fantasy you’re chasing with her? It’s going to end. She’s going to leave you bleeding in your own bed.”
My head dropped forward. I pressed the heel of my hand into my eye socket, fighting the urge to scream.
“You know I’m right,” she whispered now, almost gently. “You know it, Damon. You’re not in love. You’re just running. And one day, she’ll see you for what you really are.”
I didn’t know how long I stood there.
How long I let her words twist around my spine like thorns.
How long I let the guilt simmer beneath the heat of what I felt for Lyra.
But when I finally spoke, my voice was low. Measured. Clear.
“You don’t know anything about her.”
Camilla
