Bastián stood on the beach with Ximena’s ring clenched in his fist, and something inside me went very still.
I had expected anger, maybe triumph, if the lie held, and maybe cold indifference if it did not. What I did not expect was the look on his face. He did not look like a man who had finally gotten rid of a problem, but one who had lost the only thing that had ever made the hunt worth the pain.
The wind moved over the shore, lifting salt into the air and leaving the beach unvarnished and gray around us. The tide came and went at our feet, licking at the sand where I had placed the bracelet and the clasp. The ring was gone now, hidden in his hand, but the damage was already done. He stared at the sea like he wanted to drag something living back out of it and punish it for disappearing
