(Sanya's POV)
I don't know how long I kneel there in front of Aaron's grave, my body shaking with sobs that tear through me like broken glass, the headstone blurring in front of my eyes until I can't even read his name anymore, and the world around me fades into nothing but the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven, and the feeling of dirt beneath my knees, cold and unforgiving.
Tyron eventually pulls me to my feet, his grip on my arm firm but not painful, and for once there's no cruelty in his touch, just a strange kind of determination that I don't understand and don't have the energy to question.
"Come on," he says, his voice almost gentle. "Let's go home."
"Home?" I laugh, and the sound that comes out is bitter, broken, nothing like laughter at all. "I have no home. Not with
