"I don’t know what?" I snapped, my voice rising. My tears threatened to spill, but I forced them back. "That you’ve been with her? That her scent on you hasn’t faded? That she’s always the one you defend, no matter what she does?" My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it.
"Victoria has nothing to do with this," he said, the anger bleeding into his voice now. But his tone faltered, and I saw it—the flicker of doubt that passed briefly through his eyes.
"Doesn’t she?" I asked quietly. The words tore out of me like claws raking my chest. "Even now, when we’re here, in the sacred place we once called our own… You still think of her, don’t you? Has… has there ever been a moment when I wasn’t just an afterthought to her memory?"
His silence was deafening. He looked away, his jaw working
