Damon’s POV
My father had been dead for six years.
I had watched them lower his coffin into the ground, listened to the elders speak about his strength and sacrifice, and spent the following winter learning how to become the Alpha Blackthorne needed. I had never questioned his death because the evidence had been undeniable.
Yet someone had just spoken from behind an ancient doorway using a voice that belonged to him.
“Father?” I repeated, stepping towards the opening and Vespera caught my wrist.
“Before you charge into the dark, perhaps consider that the last thing wearing your face nearly killed us.” She said.
“I remember.” I said.
“Good. I was worried the head injury might have affected your memory.” She said.
I looked at her, and despite everything, her sarcasm steadied me.
“Wh
