Meredith.
I could hear it in his voice—the finality, the threat.
My vision blurred with the heat behind my eyes. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.
How could he? How could he do this to me—of all people?
Didn't he know?
Didn't he see what this meant?
Valmora's silence was deafening. I couldn't even ask her what to do—she was hidden now, pressed deep inside me, away from Draven's senses.
I swallowed the ache clawing up my throat.
In that single breath, I felt smaller than I had felt in months. But somewhere under the humiliation, something burned—hot and defiant.
Slowly, I turned back around to face them.
Wanda's expression was everything I had expected.
Smug satisfaction curled at her lips, her chin lifted a little higher. Her eyes glittered with triumph.
Even through my burning shame, I understood something. Wanda didn't do this to help me. She did it because of what I did to her.
