Silent.
Seraphina makes a tiny sound—somewhere between a gasp and a sob. I reach for the edge of the sheet, cursing under my breath, heart pounding like I’ve been shot.
Tabitha blinks.
Then turns?—
And walks away.
The silence she leaves behind is deafening.
Seraphina sits frozen, her body trembling under the covers, her breathing shallow and uneven. I shift toward her, the adrenaline still slamming through my veins like a wrecking ball. My heart feels like it’s trying to climb out of my chest.
“She saw,” she whispers, voice raw. “Oh God, Reign. She saw us.”
I pull the sheets tighter around her, shielding her like it makes a goddamn difference now. “I know.”
“She didn’t even say anything.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, panic blooming across her face. “What if she hates me? What if she thinks I?—”
“She won’t,” I say, too fast. Too desperate.
She turns her face to mine. “But she might.”
And fuck if that doesn’t tear something open in me.
Because I don’t have the right words. Not this time. I don’t have the wisdom to fix it, no quiet strength to wrap around her like armor.
All I’ve got is blood on my hands and fire in my past. And now the one good thing I’ve touched might be burning, too.
“She’s my daughter,” I finally say. “And I’ve protected her from everything. Except this.”
Seraphina flinches, as if I include her in the wreckage.
I reach for her cheek. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” she breathes, eyes closing as she leans into my touch.
“Do you?” I ask, really hoping she gets it but understanding if she can’t.
Blinking back tears, she nods. Wrapping a robe around herself, she gets up, leaving the bed. Leaving me. Going to the farthest corner of the room like she needs all the space she can get.
But she’s back, her phone in her hand. She comes to my side. “I want to show you something.”
The phone screen lights up and I stare down at it. Pictures. Of me and my daughter. She’s been secretly working on her art. She glides through, finding one of us and Tabitha at dinner, sharing a joke, the same spark of laughter in our matching green eyes.
My voice chokes with emotion. “That’s beautiful.”
Seraphina swipes the screen.
Now we’re under the medical tent. Me in a chair, my shirt open to the chest, Tabitha hovering over me, lips pursed, brow furrowed as she dabs antiseptic on the burn along my neck.
So proud of the woman my little girl has grown up to be, I’m staring up at Tabitha like she hung the damn moon.
“You can see—I do get it.” Seraphina puts a soft hand on my arm. “Go after her.”
26
Reign