Cylvan stared at him for a long time—then rose to his feet, as if it was all too much. He paced the room, intertwining fingers behind his neck, searching for whatever crushed his back. “… Damnit,” his voice cracked, dragging his hands down his face. “Damnit, godsdamnit… oh, gods…” “I’m going to kill him,” Nimue’s words were harsh—but spoken out loud, she was breathless, like she’d been kicked in the chest. “I’ll kill him, I’ll kill that fucking bastard for using me—for making me think—and for hurting you…”
