“Gods, Dianna, why is it so hard for you to believe that someone just genuinely cares about you?” “Because they don’t!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “They don’t. I have lived a thousand years as someone’s weapon, someone’s thing. Everyone wants something from me, and the only person in the whole world who didn’t is dead!” My chest heaved, a dam threatening to break tenfold. There it was—the brutal, agonizing truth. “You’re wrong.” His voice was like cold, hard steel. “She was not the only one. But you are also right that I do want something from you. I want you to be happy, healthy, and
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