Remo's POV
She didn't move.
Her breath was shaky, her eyes locked on mine as if she could dig through the storm brewing beneath my skin and pull the truth from it. But even she didn't know how deep the rot went.
"I saw what he did to us, Ella," I said, voice thick, low. "The Hollow King. Or whatever part of him exists in the old blood. He showed me... graves."
Ella swallowed, her lips parting. "Like—"
"Yes." My tone was sharper than I intended. "Like the ones he buried us in."
She went still.
Me. Christian. Maddox.
Trapped underground as children—our bodies starved, our minds shredded by a voice that promised power in exchange for pain. The tormentor had a name once, long forgotten. But we remembered the laughter. The way he'd watch from above, safe while we screamed in the dark.
