Marcel's POV
Christina wasn't telling me the truth. I saw it in the way her eyes shifted, unable to meet mine, and it made me curious.
I thought that I had established a certain level of trust with her, but apparently, I thought wrong.
I was going to let the matter drop, but I just remembered the way she screamed—the look of pure agony on her face as she clutched her hair—and that broke my resolve.
I reached out and held her wrist when she started to turn away. "Christina, talk to me. Tell me what you saw."
"Stop!" she cried, shaking her head. I let go of her hand, feeling rather awful. She looked like she was about to melt down in tears.
"I don't want to remember. Please don't make me say it."
"You’re not afraid of shifting," I said it like a fact, watching her reaction carefully.
