The night was too quiet now. Too still. The bodies of the hunters lay scattered around them, their blood soaking into the ground, but the battle felt unfinished. The real fight wasn’t with these hunters. It wasn’t even over why they had attacked.
It was with Gino.
Makayla could still hear the echoes of his words.
"I don’t know."
"I don’t remember."
That was the worst part. He wasn’t lying.
She had spent enough time around humans to know when they were twisting the truth, to hear the subtle tremors in their voices when they were trying to cover something up.
Gino wasn’t covering.
He genuinely didn’t know.
And that scared her more than if he had been hiding it.
Mikhail’s golden eyes were sharp as he studied their father, his expression unreadable. But Makayla could feel the weight
