SAGE
I watched Peter rub a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time, his confusion etched into every line of his face, and the weight of my choices settled on me all over again.
This man had been my father in more ways than blood. He had raised me. Protected me. Believed in me when I hadn't even believed in myself.
And I had repaid him by aligning with vampires.
The shame burned. What had I done?
Why hadn't I listened?
Why had I let revenge drag me past every warning sign, past every instinct, past the unmistakable stench of rot that clung to the vampires?
I had worked with them. Laughed with them. Watched them kill humans in front of me—and done nothing.
The memory made my stomach twist.
Was that what blind revenge did to a person? Did it empty you out so thoroughly that you stopped recognizing right from wrong?
I hated the feeling. Loathed it.
