29. Cillian

I can do this.

I swore to Zena I wouldn’t do anything rash until we knew how to get Vez back. Right now, it is taking every sinew of strength not to punch that smug bastard in the head. He knows exactly what he is doing. Every stroke of Matilda’s hair, every squeeze of her smaller body into his, he has his eyes on me. He knows this is killing me.

Maybe if he had been genuine. If he had truly sought to comfort her sadness for Jackson’s death, then maybe I could start to get a handle on this. Instead, he is peacocking. He is showing off his ownership of her instead of caring. His eyes have a peculiar gleam. Grey tinged with fierier shades of orange and yellow where once there was more orange. He is taller, prouder and stronger in every way.

This place is grim too. It is not for Matilda. So much grey concrete, the tall pine trees sapping all the daylight and happiness away. I hate myself for imagining Matilda living at Cragstone, with me. The rising sun would bathe her perfect skin ever