“You sound just like your mother.” The mention of her was a punch to the gut, a wound that refused to heal. I forced my breathing to remain even, my nails digging into my palms. “She believed in this rebellion,” I said, my voice steady despite the fury bubbling beneath the surface. “In what it could be. Not in what you’ve turned it into.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze met mine. “Don’t pretend you know what she believed,” he spat. “You were barely more than a child when she died.”
