Her voice is so sincere. So full of sorrow. She’s a shadow of the woman I met in the De Courcy library all those years ago. I hate that he’s done this to her—stripped her of her joy, her spark, her fire. Rebekka Remington was never meant to be caged, and yet my best friend managed to clip her wings and lock her behind glass like a trophy. He doesn’t deserve her. He never fucking did.
