But he was also the one who reminded me of what I had lost, of the vengeance that fueled my every moment. A part of me wanted to pull away, to run back to the false safety of Liam's arms, but a stronger, darker part of me leaned into his touch, drawn to the familiar coldness, the pain that bound us together.
"I haven't forgotten," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Good," he said, pulling his hand away. "Because he has."
I got out of the car, slamming the door shut a little harder than I intended. If I still loved Elijah, why did his touch suddenly feel like a cage? Why did the memory of Liam's warm embrace feel more like home than the years I had spent with Elijah, plotting and training for this very moment? The conflict was tearing me apart from the inside out, and I had no idea h
