Nevara
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there while the woman painted a picture I didn’t recognize, using pieces of the man I loved.
Every word from her lips chipped away at the walls I’d built to keep my doubt out. But it wasn’t working. Not this time.
Thoren was furious—genuinely. I could feel it through the bond, like a storm churning just beneath my skin. There was no deception there. No guilt. Only rage and disbelief. But rage could be blinding. And disbelief could be an act.
What if he was only furious because he had something to lose?
I didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to entertain the possibility that she might be telling the truth. But then she said it—that cursed detail I couldn’t ignore.
The birthmark.
I knew it was there. I’d seen it. Tasted it. Felt it brus
