26
Saige
An hour or so after Callan slept, I stared at the wall. Everything I’d learned about him, his past, ate at my stomach. Empathy should have swayed my heart toward him, but he’d caused too much damage with his words and actions. While I’d always thought of myself as a forgiving person, I couldn’t find it in myself to forgive him for what he’d done to Joc, the way he spoke to both me and Flynn—even if his life prior to living in the wilderness had shaped him into the bastard he’d become.
There’s no excuse for his behavior.
I’d denied him my body earlier that night, and my face still stung from where he’d slapped me. At least he hadn’t forced me to spread my legs, which I’d expected. Perhaps not completely evil, but pretty damn close.
Did Flynn know the truth of his father? Is th
