ROWAN
I massaged the bridge of my nose, the familiar pressure radiating behind my eyes. It had been like this the entire so-called “break.”
A break, they called it.
For me, it was nothing but a flood of responsibilities, endless numbers, meetings, and arguments. I had buried myself in work, and yet no matter how deep I dug, I couldn’t drown out the noise of my parents. Their voices were constant, like a hammer striking the same nail over and over again.
After Cade called me that night, after I answered and helped, when most wouldn’t—they never stopped reminding me of it. “Helping the enemy,” that’s what they said. “Helping the North,” as if the North were a sickness to be quarantined. But what did they know? What did they see of the reality? None.
All they cared about was their ima
