Clara didn't hit replay.
She didn't need to.
That message had tattooed itself onto her chest the second she'd heard it.
"The truth isn't just mine to tell."
The words were bare and wide and thick with meaning. And they made one thing abundantly clear.
Damien wasn't the only one holding secrets.
Someone else was in on it.
And she had no idea who.
By the time Clara departed from NovaReign that evening, her mind was a mess of contradictions.
Half of her wished to go seek him out. Prod him. Demand the entire tale—all of it, no mysteries, no pauses.
The other half wished to turn and run. Not in fear, but in the sickening awareness that she'd trusted too easily. Again.
She knew that feeling. The one where something you thought was a certainty gets brought into doubt.
It was the sam
