KESTREL’S POV
I run without looking back, the cold morning air slicing against my cheeks as if it wants to remind me I’m still alive.
My chest burns and my lungs feel tight, but stopping isn’t an option because stopping means thinking, and thinking means I have to face whatever nightmare has been living inside me.
I wipe at my face, but the tears keep coming, the kind that hurts behind the eyes. My legs shake from the sudden panic that has taken over me, and the more I think about Zephyruz and his calm face and all the secrets he held, the more sick I feel. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what I’ve done. And the truth is, I’m terrified of myself.
My nails have always had blood under them, always. I told myself it was from fights or from scraping against rough edges. I told myse
