“That isn’t what I meant.”
His mouth curled without humor.
“I am the Charon of this clan.”
Veya swallowed.
“What does that mean?”
“When something becomes dangerous, I’m the one they send to kill it.”
Her attention flicked toward the door.
Rhen noticed.
“You will not reach it before I stop you.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Her jaw tightened.
For the first time since waking, something other than fear settled into her expression.
“Did I ask you to do this?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“You were unconscious.”
“So you chose for me.”
“Yes.”
No apology.
No excuse.
Only the truth.
Veya’s breath shook as she looked down at herself. Her fingers tightened around the sheets.
“Can you undo it?”
“No.”
Her eyes closed briefly.
The tether carried the shape of her despair into him—heavy, numb, and disturbingly quiet.
Rhen locked his jaw.
Regret could not reverse the decision, and he had no use for emotions that changed nothing.
Veya opened her eyes again.
