Alina walked through the city streets, the cold air biting at her skin as she tried to process everything. The weight of Damon’s confession still pressed down on her, making each step feel heavier than the last.
She had asked him for the truth, and he had given it to her—without excuses, without lies. And yet, it didn’t make it easier to accept.
Her father was dead.
Because of Damon.
Because he chose not to stop it.
She should hate him. She should walk away and never look back. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t shut off the emotions twisting inside her.
She loved him.
That was the worst part of it all.
Love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like drowning, like suffocating under the weight of choices she never wanted to make.
Her phone buzzed in her
