Valtira
If there was only one thing I would ever beg of the goddess, it would be this—hide me. Hide me far away from Zarek’s reach, bury me so deep in shadow that even his madness could not find me.
Blind his senses to my existence. Mute the pull that still throbbed between us like an unhealed wound. Let the world forget I ever breathed beside him.
Because I know him.
Zarek would never sit still and accept my absence like a sane man. He would come again. He would push. He would threaten. And if he could not have me, he would turn his rage on Draven and everyone standing between us. Violence was his language. Blood, his punctuation.
He is a mad man.
And I would never—never—give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble again. He had already taken enough from me. My pride. My freedom
