THE CONFRONTATION
I chose a morning when the house was quiet.
Not because I needed the silence for courage. I had made my decision the night on the back steps with his hand warm over mine and the bond finally still in my chest. I had made it and I had slept on it and woken with it intact, which was how I knew it wasn't the moon or the moment or the particular vulnerability of everything that had happened in the past weeks.
It was just true.
But I wanted the quiet because what I needed to say to him deserved a space without an audience, and Roger stormclaw had very few moments in his day that belonged entirely to himself.
I found him in the study before the morning meeting. He was at the window with his coffee, looking at the tree line with the expression he wore when he was thinking s
