Rose’s death is an open, festering wound that requires lancing. Maybe this conversation is the hot edge that will do the job.
“You know why I killed her,” I start softly.
She nods. “Yes. You’ve told me the story, but I need to hear it again. I need you to walk me through it.”
“That will only hurt you, Wren.”
Her hands tremble as she runs them down her face. If it’s an attempt to calm herself, it doesn’t do a damn bit of good, becauseshe only starts trembling more.
“I’m hurting anyway,” she confesses. “I might as well know everything. And I want you to start from the beginning.”
Her jaw tightens. “You were right: this didn’t start with Rose’s death. It started with Elena’s.”
Something hot and prickly flashes over my body. “Are you sure?”
There’s a tremor over her lips before she rep
