Chapter Thirty - What We Almost Said
She wasn’t afraid of enemies anymore—only of the words she almost said to the man who was slowly becoming her weakness, her undoing completely. The night felt too quiet. Too still. As if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting—watching—the way Mirabel and Cole were watching each other across the dim light of the dying fire. He hadn’t moved his hand. It was still on her neck, warm and steady, his thumb brushing slow, unconscious circles against her skin. It should have been nothing. It should have been harmless. But it wasn’t. Not with the way his breath caught every time her eyes met his. Not with the way something desperate flickered across his face, softening every hardened edge he carried. Not with the way Mirabel felt her heartbeat rise to the surface like it wanted to
- Writer
