His mouth.
His stupid split second of hesitation when he’d released my wrist.
The way he’d started pulling away the second I froze.
And the way everything had changed when I pulled him back.
Cami pushed against me.
I ignored her.
He had two faces.
Three.
Ten.
That was the problem.
I had no idea which one was real.
Maybe they all were.
Maybe people were allowed to be more than one thing, which was a horribly inconvenient revelation when you were trying very hard to hate someone.
I knew what Hollow Moon was.
I knew what his family had done.
Mom had talked about that pack often enough over the years, usually with the particular expression she reserved for things she wanted to personally drag before the Council and set on fire.
Women trapped.
Women hurt.
Women who disappeared
