“You’re my daughter, Fable.” I looked him in the eye, my voice seething with every drop of hatred that boiled within me. “I’m Isolde’s daughter.” The ironclad set of his mouth faltered then, just barely, and I knew the words had hurt. But I meant them. I’d been a fool for believing that Saint would welcome me back to the Narrows. That he’d be happy to see me.
Ugh i so understand both sides him sacraficing for her even if she hates him,her feeling rejected, his not wanting her to end up like ger mom but losing her in the process... Well done
