Birthday. His birthday. The day he was born. Which, apparently, had recently happened. Which everyone here seemed to know about.
Except me.
I watched as Kael walked the men toward the path back to the helipad, backlit by the dying glow of the fire. He chuckled at something one of them said, nodding along like he hadn't just dropped a nuclear bomb into my brain without flinching.
My stomach twisted.
I hadn't known. I didn't know.
Not even a mention. Not a hint. And now I couldn't stop thinking,
What else didn't I know?
I knew about the scars on his body. The shape of his rage. The sharp things buried under his skin. I knew the shadow of Ivan and the weight of his father's expectations. But… birthdays? Favorite meals? What made him laugh as a child? Did I even know his middle name?
