[Sera]
So I talk.
Not gracefully. Not in the clean, linear way I rehearsed during sixty minutes of hallway laps. It comes out in chunks—jagged, overlapping, like I'm dumping puzzle pieces on the floor and hoping he can see the picture.
Killian. The bond. The pregnancy he ordered erased. Liora's concealment magic. The fake procedure, the forged records, Lumi's sacrifice. Lulu—not just a baby born in a Seattle hospital to a single mom, but a child hidden by witchcraft from one of the most powerful werewolf bloodlines on the continent.
I keep my voice low, conscious of Lulu asleep ten feet away behind my door. The coffee goes cold in my hands. I don't drink it. I just hold it like a prop, something to grip while I dismantle the careful fiction of the past eighteen months and show him the
