Primrose let Kayan retreat to his room. Not that anyone really let Kayan do anything. He did what he pleased and he didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. Least of all her.
Except for when it came to his guilt.
I could have died instead.
He hadn’t spoken those words like a man looking for sympathy, or one out to shock. It had been steady, matter of fact. And that’s what had made it truly frightening. Because it was obvious he had thought them before. Obvious that he believed them.
Things had moved on in her life. Britain had changed, she had taken on new projects, found different ways she could participate in the gang work. But in Sicily, time seemed to have stood still.
And Kayan with it.
No, maybe that wasn’t true. He had changed. He had grown so dark, so bitter. Lost in his own
