I wasn't sure what I was supposed to feel anymore.
The carriage ride back was oddly quiet, but not uncomfortable. Victor had taken me to the histories of noble houses I barely paid attention to. Apparently, to ease my mood.
But I couldn't shake off the aftertaste of something else. Something that didn't belong.
Now, walking through the corridors of the Pack House, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said before.
"You deserve someone who sees you. All of you, Eva. Not just the version they need you to be."
At first, it had sounded comforting. Reassuring, even. But the more I replayed it in my head, the more it twisted into something else.
Who did he mean by they?
Damien?
No. No,
Victor wouldn't—he couldn't—mean that. Damien had been distant lately, yes. Strange, moody, almost like he was wrestling something I couldn't see. But he still loved me.
I knew that, didn't I?
Then why did I feel like I was being pulled further and further away from him?
