ASHTON
The words I'll get packing still echo in my skull long after Demi's lips stop moving.
What hurts more isn't the words themselves, but the way she said it, with such quiet finality, like the decision was already etched in stone. No hesitation. No glance back at me to gauge how wide with horror and shock my eyes become. Nothing. The missing warmth in her tone lodges in my chest like glass shards, twisting every time I breathe.
For a second, I go numb all over. The sound of Anna's gasp rattles the air, and I don't miss the way her eyes dart to me, silently begging me to do something. To stop this madness.
Marcel watches his niece with grim satisfaction, like this was the only outcome he ever wanted. And Lucien — that new shadow he's thrown into our lives — just leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, assessing me like he's waiting for me to break.
My blood boils but anger takes a backseat when Demi brushes past me, heading toward her room to get her things.
