The silence between them had grown thick, choking, like smoke after a fire left too long to burn. Thorne paced the stone corridor just outside of his room—no, not her room, his, the one she’d been sulking in for four days. Four long, grating, unforgiving days.
It was the first time Evanna had ever refused to speak to him, and Thorne was coming apart at the seams.
He hadn’t expected this.
Yes, he had dropped a truth on her like a guillotine, and yes, it had sliced through the fragile reality she’d known like it was nothing—but hadn’t she demanded the truth? Begged for it?
Still, the cold shoulder she gave him wasn’t just indifference. It was punishment. And the worst part? His pack was punishing him too.
They looked at him with veiled resentment, disappointment bleeding from their eyes
