Hazel Moreau
I cried until I had no tears left, curled up on our bed with my face buried in the pillows that still smelled like Killian. The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound could have. He had lied to me about the most important thing in my world, my brother. Yet even as I told myself I hated him, even after I'd screamed those words at him, I felt pathetic knowing that his arms were the ones I wanted around me right now, consoling me.
The thought made me sick. How could I want comfort from the very person who had caused me this pain? How could my body still crave his touch when my heart was breaking because of his lies?
I must have cried myself to sleep at some point during the night, because I woke the next morning feeling hollow and drained. The joy I had felt at being trea
