“We are done!” she says again, her voice truer this time. Ryon’s hands run over his head, down his face. “It isn’t that simple.” “It is simple,” Dawsyn returns. “It wasn’t before. I was confused then. It was difficult to hate you and grieve your death at the same time.” She clenches her hands, forcing the trembling in them to subside. When she meets the hybrid’s eyes, she ensures he will find no indecision in hers. “But you are no longer dead,” she says, coldly. “And now? It shall be easy.”
