Marybeth
I had spent most of my life trusting my instincts. They had kept me alive. Kept Eli alive. Kept me from making more mistakes than I already had. Unfortunately, instincts were also incredibly inconvenient.
Because once they started screaming, they rarely shut up. And mine had been screaming for days. The scent. Always the scent. Lucian. Seraphina. The attack sites. Every time I convinced myself I was imagining things, another piece of evidence appeared.
Never enough to prove anything. Always enough to keep me awake at night. The problem wasn't that I suspected Seraphina. The problem was that I didn't want to. I had spent years disliking her. Years resenting what she represented.
Years convincing myself that she had taken something that should have been mine. Then I had grown
