Alexander’s lips parted in shock, and he glanced at me. Gavriel’s grip on my hand was firm, unyielding, as if trying to feed me strength and support. Ty just stood there, watching it all unfold, wearing a mask I couldn’t read. None of it mattered. I felt like I'd been stabbed in the gut. Never once had I been directly blamed for my sister's death. We'd both been taken. We'd both been tortured. We both tried to escape. So many of the details of that experience had been blocked from my mind. I was told it was a trauma response. My brain attempting to protect me from my past.
