The words on the page wouldn’t stop burning into me.
“You’re not leading them, Vivian. You’re using them. That’s what she did.”
Arabella’s scrawl, or something forged to look like it. It didn’t matter, the venom landed the same way. My hands wanted to crumple the note into nothing, but I couldn’t make myself move. Because the worst part was how my chest tightened, not with outrage, but with recognition. A shadow of truth she’d twisted to her advantage.
I shoved the parchment away before Wren could lean too close. He was watching me—of course he was—sharp eyes flicking from my face to the note as though he could steal the words by sheer focus. I hated how I almost wanted him to.
“I said it’s nothing,” I told him, my voice harsher than I intended. “A petty trick. She’s desperate.”
“Desp
