Page 176 of Bitten & Burned
I stared at the words, fingers trembling around the corners of the paper. My vision went soft at the edges—not with tears, but with pressure. Rage, maybe. Or shame.
The page rustled.
Then stilled.
Quil’s voice came from the doorway, low and careful.
“Everything okay?”
I didn’t look up right away.
“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully.
“Do you want some time alone? I could go…” His gaze extended to the balcony. It was either there or go stand in my room. Or my washroom. “Stand in a corner.”
That pulled my gaze up.
He stood there, glass in hand, whiskey untouched. His eyes on me, unreadable. Not angry. Not cold. Just… braced.
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “No. I just—these are things I should’ve seen before. And I didn’t. I missed it. All of it.”
Quil didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
From the chair across from me, Vael’s voice came low. “You weren’t meant to see it. That was his design.”
I swallowed thickly, nodding. “I just… gods, I feel so stupid.”
Vael’s gaze sharpened. “Then he succeeded. Don’t hand him that victory twice.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
I nodded, handing over the page.
Quil crossed the floor, reading over Vael’s shoulder.
I watched Quil’s eyes move across the words, slow and steady. His jaw flexed once. Then again.
By the time Vael reached the end, his fingers had curled slightly at the edges of the paper. “Clinical,” he said at last, voice flat. “Every line calculated to dismantle.”
Quil’s jaw tightened until I thought his teeth might crack. “This isn’t affection. It’s a leash.”
I swallowed hard. “I thought he was protecting me.”
Vael handed the letter back with care—like he didn’t want to discuss it while it was still in his hand.
“I have to speak to him,” I said softly.
“What?” Quil’s head jerked towards me, eyes wide with disbelief—like I’d just told him I was about to take a flying leap off the balcony.
Vael’s voice cut in, cooler but no less sharp. “Rowena, that’s the last thing you should do. Speaking to him means playing his game.”
“I’m not going to stay,” I said quickly. “I’m not going to listen to him explain things. I just—I need to see his face when I say it. When I tell him I know what he did. That he doesn’t own me anymore.”
Quil blinked. Once. Twice.
“You’re serious.”
“I need closure,” I said. “And I’m not going to get it from letters I didn’t even open until today.”
He didn’t speak.
