AUTHOR'S POV
The hall was tense that morning.
Rhys stood by the window, arms folded, jaw clinched. He was finally healed and his mind was set on one goal–dealing with Gennieve. Rage burned in his eyes, as his fist balled.
She had dared to kill his mate–her friend. Not all friends are real after all. Clara and Killian were also present, both lost in their own thoughts.
Clara was seated as her face contorted in confusion. She kept having several flashes of a different blurry face with dark hair but she couldn't seem to pinpoint who it was. Deeply, she knew there was more to this. Gennieve couldn't do this, her earlier words about Gennieve didn't seem right one bit. Gennieve had red hair, but the blurry flashes she got, had dark hair.
Killian on the other hand couldn't help but think
