Lorraine's POV
I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the ground, my heart hammering like a warning drum in my chest.
The Ghosthound, this terrifying girl with haunting eyes and hair like a tangled veil of grief. had just lunged into Adrian's arms. And he…. he hadn't flinched. He hadn't pushed her away.
He held her.
Even Kieran noticed. His clawed fingers slackened, and Thorin fell to the floor with a thud, gasping for air and clutching his bruised throat.
My eyes flicked between all three of them, Adrian, the Ghosthound, Thorin, trying to piece it together, trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all.
"What the hell is going on?" I whispered. My voice barely made it past my throat.
Adrian gently pulled away from the Ghosthound, Aveline, he'd called her. His hand rested on her shoulder with a tenderness I had never seen from him before.
Then he looked at me.
His smile was faint, but it wasn't warm. It was sad, like he was disappointed.
