I stared at the folded paper in Marcus's hand like it might bite me.
"A letter," I repeated. "For me. From Vera."
"I don't know when she wrote it." Marcus held it out, his hand not quite steady. "I found it tucked under her pillow, like she'd been keeping it close. Waiting for the right moment, maybe. Or waiting for someone to find it if she couldn't deliver it herself."
I didn't move to take it right away. Something about the idea of Vera, the woman who'd walked into my Luna ceremony and taken everything from me in a single afternoon, writing me a letter felt impossible to hold in my head alongside everything else I'd learned in the last two hours. The bond wasn't real. Vera was missing. There was blood on her floor and a symbol burned into fabric that belonged to a bloodline that was
